Hidden

Nothing can compare, not even close, to that of which I feel.
Deep down inside me, within my being, is where it does lay.
Sheer passion, pure desire, to compelling, could this be real?
Without him I am not whole, I just exist, my mind astray!

Can’t tell a soul, no, no one, not ever, as he is not mine to keep.
If only known to me for a simple moment, satisfied I would be.
As my dreams are consumed of thoughts of him, how I want to sleep!
My complete addiction, baby face beauty, my secret lover is he.

Tucked away in the deepest of my soul, exists his sweet passion.
Can't get enough, not even close, as for he is all I crave.
My mind, my body, weakened by his clout, an utter infatuation.
Wanting, needing, waiting is what’s become of me, his sexual slave.

His very presence is overwhelming, let alone his perpetual touch.
I belong to him; he knows this well, though we remain forbidden.
As all that I want, and all that I need, my completion is as such.
He belongs to another and yet he is mine, so consequently kept hidden.

by Christina McHale