Betrayed...

I have been betrayed...
by my own passion.
I had not seen her, nor spoken to her
(nor did I care to do either)
when she called...
I did not want to say yes, but I did want my books and tapes
that had somehow gotten mixed in with her things,
so I went...
I did not want  to "...come in and chat..."
but there was no reason not to,
so I did...
I did not want to look into her eyes and see all the same things
I had seen so long ago; all the things I had loved.
I did not want to reach out and touch her or to know if she was as
soft and smooth and warm as I remembered.
I did not want to lean over and kiss her lips gently,
to taste her as I had long ago.
I did not want to love her as I had before,

...but I did.