By Sunder
Maybe it's the feeling of growing old alone that scares me
--when both my body and soul are weak.
Maybe it's just the biological impulses that flow inside my veins,
telling--yelling-- screaming ...
Screaming that I need to pass on my genes as Nature programmed us.
Maybe it's the feeling of losing you
that I kind of want to happen so that there would always be regrets.
There should always be regrets.
I'm addicted.
I'm addicted to this euphoria I get
when talking to you,
interacting with you,
being with you.
I don't want this to be over--and yet--I don't want this--
This thing I keep feeling.
But yet, I come to like it.
And yet, I come to hate it.
Never mind everything that's happened in the past,
there was never a past to look back to.
We exist in the present--
with space and time omniscient.
Gravity and attraction never existed.
We only see the effects of the pulls.
All that had happened were just mere impulse,
what was pleasing that none indulged.
Get out of my sight before I think of kissing you.