Don't look at me that way. That look is intended to start something. Something I'm not even ready to think about getting started. I'm not ready to have those long intimate conversations about inclinations, destinations, revelations, or proclamations. Not ready to be wined, dined, and entwined, by your mind. Still not ready for your hands to stroke my cheek, make me weak, hold me tight, no, not tonight, strip me bare, I shouldn't care, do me 'til I'm unaware of this ring around my finger. Why allow myself to linger in a love that is now gone. Will I ever allow myself to move on?