Despite the little sleep I seem to get anymore; you persist in making appearances in my dreams and subsequently haunting my waking. Dreams consisting of memories of the times spent together, memories of the few things shared together, memories of the things felt in common but dared not uttered and fantasies of the potential for an impossibly perfect time, place, event; a future filled with our desires sated, our hearts warmed, our minds engaged and our souls fulfilled, through each other. Dreams that only well-suited, attuned, compelling, enticing, potentials of the opposite sex can illicit.
But with the dawning of the day, and the ending of the dream, comes only Shame. Guilt. Regret. Sadness… Shame. For having inappropriate desires and feelings and thoughts and ideas and fantasies for an inappropriate person, at an inappropriate time. Guilt. For living in a momentary glow of ogling, flirting, and seduction; and crossing too many lines to chase down the unlikely, impermissible, and amoral. Regret. For disregarding the feasible and logical and sustainable; for tearing down what little friendship, connection, harmony, and intimacy already shared. And. Sadness. That the object of affection is just there, so close; just there, so right; just there, reflecting those wants, needs, intentions; yet, just there, beyond the wall of the attainable.
The heart wants what the heart wants; it is the mind's and the body's and the soul's occupation to effort to contain the frivolity of the heart's wishes, despite the heart's surety of its claims, the dedication to its direction, and the promise of its ultimate fulfillment with an ever so compatible counterpart, within the realm of the available, the achievable. So it is in the here and the now; in the sleeping and the waking battleground of a human's being, the heart fights the mind, the body and the soul.
Cheers.