Insinuation

Is it a sin?

It is there in his eyes,

A fire in disguise;

All the while

I simmer on insinuation.

Every suggestion, a whim;

Where do I end or begin?

My heart rises through my skin

To stop at disintegration.

Looking too deep, never sleeping,

Sometimes weeping...

Realization burns completing

Infatuation.

Author's Note

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