You tried to wind me up in your

desire and I was so flattered for a

while that I tangled

in with gusto and as long as

you kept me occupied, kept

me from thinking, I was

fine. Now you keep asking

why it couldn’t have stayed

that way, why I

needed logic in

the first place, why I wanted

the comfort of predictable patterns.

The more you ask, the madder

I get and it’s not till I’m alone

that I wonder at it myself.

Why not be content in the

chaos of your hunger,

why question your motives? Why not

live in your secret world

while I can?

by Cher Bibler