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Moth

© Nicholas Vosper 2002

Spare me
the misguided empathy
of your touch
it bruises
the fragile membrane
of my resolve.
And at the last,
the remains of my fidelity
will dust your conscience,
leaving me grounded.

Save me
the brilliant intensity
of your gaze
it draws me
perilously close to your heat.
And after all,
betrayal will out
and obsession will control
until all that is past is undone.

Grant me the mercy
of an eleventh-hour reprieve,
withdraw your hand
and lower your eyes.
And at the last,
I will remember what I am
and that I cannot afford
to lose what I have now.