A Place Called Home

I wrote this about a girl I like so here it is.....

The lighter-than-air touch across my heart
Is more treacherous than open love
Betraying me, even unto Death.
I swore to myself not again,
And then willfully dove headlong back in.
The reason of my obsession is honest enough;
I couldn’t not love her, no matter what.
She draws my being like metal draws a magnet,
Unrelenting, yet not on purpose,
The pull of a waterfall on a river.

With the ability to seem vulnerable, sad,
Yet always beautiful, always dignified.;
Her hand lightly touches mine,
And leaves behind a single hair;
The odd mix of blonde and brown
Exploding into golden beauty,
A face beyond words, a dancer’s body.
Physical touch is never enough, yet too much,
Leaving me yearning, yet gorged,
Never getting my fill, but drowning.

If I lose her I would be destroyed
But to gain her, the same fate.
For a beginning implies an end,
And at that I cannot live.
All options are bleak,
To make a move, rejection awaits,
To stop would be like not breathing,
To forever wait, not doing a thing,
That is a fate worse than Death,
Yet the only choice I make.