But when it was real
there was no excitement
no joy
I laid her down
slid her out of her clothes
and her laughter stopped
And her eyes stared blankly out at nothing
And I removed my clothes
and I touched her
and used her hands, her body, to touch me
Then we silently dressed
and went back to our homes
And some time after
I did it again
And later again
And there was never any joy
And years later when we spoke
she told me of what she did not feel
and told me of what she had not wanted
and told me how the memory of my touch
had numbed, had frozen her
And she said she knew that I had been quite young
(though not as young as she)
And she tried to forgive me
But I have yet to forgive myself
And we have never spoken again
And I have sworn never to do this again
But still I dream of the little girls
And I want to do this
and I hunger for this
and I write about this in words of florid fevered fantasy
and I share these words with others
who share these magic dreams
But in this dreaming I cannot forget
that she did not want this
she did not want this
And I have never done this to any girl again
I pray never to do this again
as much as I dream
as much as I desire
as much as I hunger
I pray never to do this again
though my life remains a shell of pretense
though I know that I shall never fulfill my dreams
though I never shall enjoy the bright fulfillment
open to those with different desires
I pray never to do this again
and swear to leave these dreams on the page, on the screen
(and pray that those who read them do the same
and dread that what I write here might inspire them
to the actions which might blank the eyes
of other frightened girls)
for I will not hurt
I will not risk that I might hurt
the ones I love
and I pray that my love can overrule my lust
I pray never to do this again
I swear never to do this again
I cry for I can never do this again
And the echoes of her eyes stare back at me from within
forever
from the hollows where my heaven used to be