stop it before it begins. before you reply to that e-mail. before you respond to that call in the dark. before you fall to her voice. before she tangles words and words around and around and around you and pulls you up to the heights of the mind. stop it before she shows you the wonders from above, the lights of the city, the fury of the sea onto the beach.
stop it before it begins. before you make your way down the crowded streets to that small coffee shop where a grrl in black is sitting, her hair up in a pile of blonde streaks, her head poised gently on her left hand, her right hand turning the pages of a little black book.
stop it before it begins. you can still turn back. before you order your tea. before you pull back your chair and take a seat, when your cold steel eyes will be greeted by the glowing blue/green embers of her iris. don't look at her directly, don't look at her at all. go. before you are hypnotized by the cinnamon bark, allspice and anise seed.
stop it before it's too late. before you surrender parts of you that have always remained unexplored. every word is a step deeper and deeper into the dark. a step you won't want to retrace. yet somehow you will. again and again. your instinct is and will always be impaired by your goddamned curiosity. every breath, every sound. every word on the screen is an inch closer to her.
stop it before it's too late. before she replies with her carefully contrived prose. stop before you start to see the hidden meanings between the lines. stop before you start to follow the patterns of light she hides in the shadows of her phrases. she knows how to turn them, how to play with words to get you where she wants you.
stop it before it's too late. before you take her hand and take her down the hidden streets you like to frequent. before you take her to the beach at midnight and watch her in black against the white foam of the sea. before you walk the side of the canal in her thoughts, the stories of the places she has seen, the people she has known. stop before you get lost inside the passages of her mind. stop.
stop. before you walk her back to your place. stop. before you take off her coat. stop. before you pour her a drink. stop.
the sun cuts through the sky. you open your eyes and find burnt cinnamon staring right back at you in the warmth of the new morning.
you didn't know how to stop. your desire for her will turn you into a stag.
may you be torn to shreds by your own hounds.