Left Of The Middle Poem by Ballerina With Fins

It is a passion so simplistic,
the need (or rather the lack
of needs) to merely acknowledge
Her wonderful presence.

Why deal
with the hecticness of Him?
The hideous decisiveness
of opposite sexes
merging to create a strained
relationship of lies
and deceit.

The need to be physical
is no longer apparent!
She intoxicates me, this
Pixie child, dark and faery.
Evil.
The beauty of our relationship
is that I no longer care
what She looks like or
who She is. But I want her,
I want her so badly.

Adolescence, my dear.
That's what we're all
told. Not lesbianism,
but admiration speaking.

I Strongly beg to differ-

(we're referring
to both the current situation
and the way of life)

Let me drown in this
pool of guilt. But pick me up again,
I am only human.

Oh! The painful indignity
of love!