Dangerous Attraction

Dangerous Attraction


You told me you loved me,
showed me you cared,
unreserved joy in me,
small gestures, touches, affections.

I told you I loved you,
perhaps prompted and less often.
Showed you nothing,
knew it hurt, but didn’t change

I said “I love you”,
you wanted to hear it.
Your response was gratifying,
out of all proportion to my lie.

You made love with passion,
sweet innocent imagination.
I with consummate skill,
fucked you.

I loved the love you gave me,
not the giver of the gift,
loved the greater man you made me,
not you, yourself.

I could lie again, regain you,
have you back. My own.
Or just as easily exchange you.
Allow you to be gone.