despicable

indeed i get my satisfaction
but i'm still left unsatisfied
contentment will not pacify me
my thirst for you won't be denied

i dislike all the waiting hours
a tiny seed that spawns the hate
i loathe the virtue patience is
left in an agitated state

to be close offers me no peace
ferocious with a yearning still
it will not let my mind be eased
there's nothing that can cool the thrill

there's not one thing to calm the ache
impossible to hush the dirge
there's not much more that i can take
it's damning to resist the urge

it's sick how awful goodness is
the kind of sweetness that you bring
despise the way i love it so
it forces all my thoughts to cling

attach onto your burning words
you have no right to use them so
the way they make my feelings stir
and cause the feverishness to grow

i hate the way you own my space
resent the ways you conquer me
malevolently i adore
a pleasure i did not foresee

i now detest the waiting game
keeps me from what i covet most
i wish that i could be ashamed
of how completely i'm engrossed

despicable how deep the need
contemptible how i pursue
all i can do is now concede
abhor delights i feel for you

You know what...I know this is non-tic but it reminds me of some of the blank spaces in some of the stories you've written.

The undercurrent.

Despise the way I love this so.


You continue to obliterate me , girl.

Thank you.