Stricken

Yet my heart flutters, my gut repulses.
I crave his company and voice,
even though every mutter of his breath will be of her.
The way his lips move when he speaks,
oh it melts me to the core with crave.
When his presence comes within me,
my inner reaction of glee is almost audible.
It is only mustered by the overlaying
film of misery at knowing whos company his heart years for.
What a vile batch of human she is.
Trying to process what he sees in her
is what makes my stomache churn.
But my character is enough altered to keep me coming back for more,
he is everything I'm looking for.
So each time these opposing emotions enter my being,
it is difficult to comprehend my thoughts.
Only with him am I my true self,
though my discontentment brings desire to no longer be.
With my need of his presence and person, comes fascination and passion.
Fascination to never look away, never stop listening.
And passion of an unexplainable kind.
Then in the same moment,
my true and utter replusion of him sets into my mind.
With that is my want to flee from the room.
But like a fool, I remain.
Would ever I only be happy of his company
if there were to be no her?
No.... of course not.
For a man stricken by love is unchangeable.
Not death nor distance can weaken his heart's desire.

So I must suffer for my pleasure in him.