Guilty of hope

I should be blamed for last night,
for devouring, eating, and drinking
without thinking.

For stealing, catching, and touching
what was never mine.

For dreaming, longing, falling,
for things I shouldn't have looked at,
a softness I shouldn't have touched,
a moonlit kiss I shouldn't have prayed for.

How much uncertainty can I bear?
How much pain can I hide?
How much light can I save?

I need to wake up.

It's not mine.
It will never be.

But, oh God, I'm so guilty.

Guilty of dreaming,
of falling,
of catching glimpses...

of hope.

Can I find love again?

Or am I so foolish
for trying to find
what once destroyed me?
Love is not mine.
It never will be.
But I'm so guilty...