A Girl Called Desire

Desire is suicidal. Always reaching for the immeasurable heights,
the sharp knives, the cyanide.
I stop her before she goes too far;
she openly resents me.
She has the faith that I lack,
for God, karma, or rebirth, I don’t know;
it’s phony, something science debunked long ago.
Naivety is her personality, wanting freedom before life.
She’s an adrenaline junkie.
She endangers me.
The only problem is, I’m in love with her.
I’ll go anywhere she takes me,
but not-so-secretly,
I want her to be satisfied.
Satiated, fatigued, appeased, pleased.
Asleep
in my arms, tucked under my chin,
dreamlessly drifting.
I wish we could grow old like this.