Still, Longing for Something

Still, longing for success, longing for respect, longing for.... love?


Desire, caged in my chest, grows into a fucking monster that nearly rips my flesh into pieces.

Driven by the inner beat,
I want to taste your lips, touch your skin, and feel your temperature.
Thus may I realize my existence.

But
I CAN'T.

People call it 'Lust' instead of 'Love'.

Do I mistake lust for love?


Indeed, I have no gut.
I can't bear to lose you.

Again, I'm trapped by my guiltiness.