My Own Romeo

It is true that the forbidden love is the most lusted for, I would know. I knew having him was to good to be true—for things like this always are--. There just had to be some catch, and of course, there was. I long for him to be with me, yet I find myself so far away. They try in harsh attempts to keep us apart, to keep me from his arms, but their attempts are in vain. Nothing can contain love. The power that surged to take us apart only made my love, and want for him grow stronger. I find myself thinking of him more and more, making my want my dominant emotion. I imagine him in my mind, his short flaming hair and shining eyes. I let my mind trace over and over the features of his face in my mind. Everything from the scattered freckles, to the smallest curve in his smile. I want to stand besides him, to feel the curve of his arms, to feel the warmth of his lips. It must be a sickness to think of another so often and so fondly. However instead of curing it, I let it rage and rack my entire being. It wipes out all of my common scene and replaces it with burning desire. Why must I suffer so? It is because I want, but cannot have fully, he whom I desire.

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