A tale that isn't right

I walk along paths filled with thorns,
a place I hadn’t visited in a long time.
I didn’t want to find it,
but sometimes I end up here without even seeking it.

It feels like a sin to write,
because it’s forbidden and unreachable,
yet sometimes I get caught up in fantasies, imagining all the possibilities—
ones I should forget.

I know it’s all in my head,
and the nervousness I feel when near.
To think it seemed so trivial at first,
and how every moment, every situation brought me a little closer.

It all started with shared cigarettes,
with stolen smiles,
with awkward silences,
and now my thoughts won’t stop spinning,
all the time,
with every breath.

I feel bound,
even when I want to forget.
The more I try to avoid and ignore,
it just shows up, standing in front of me.
My chest tightens,
eyes that meet, and I can’t stop looking.

I need to forget soon or start accepting that I have a little more time to endure this torture.