Little Things

Damn you.

Damn your smile too,
its crooked, quirky twist
complimenting the promise
hidden in the soft contours of your lips.
Both in and outside of my reach
like the hand just barely not touching mine,
defining bittersweet.

And damn your dark hair,
its texture teasing and tantalizing
as silky strands slide through
slender fingers, a seduction slow and sweet.
Long lashes fall to half-mast,
and tense muscles settle and relax in a show
of explicit trust.

A plague on your hugs,
for you’re tall enough that
the hollow of your collarbone
cradles my head perfectly, and there I
could fall asleep to a heartbeat
within warm arms that encircle and protect,
a sanctuary.

And a curse on your words,
the sincerity and simplicity
of to you being beautiful
made my night and threw my mind,
even with her by your side,
but now I have nowhere to hide and
impossible is denial.

You’re not fighting fair…
but you don’t even know you’re fighting.

So in light of that,
I take all of it back.
You’re not to be blamed
for a troublesome heart that won’t be tamed,
and refuses as always to listen
to the lessons of yesteryear and tears,
damn you.