Torture: a Lesson In English

I ask why you insist on torturing me. My question is met by dark Egyptian eyes That enchant me even in their confusion; You tell me, in that lovely dancing accent, That you don't know this word. And then that you do, but are still confused... You aren't sure what you could have done To hurt me... I inform you that you do not know The true meaning of torture. Torture is your lips, just the sight of your lips- You bite your lower lip without thinking; this too is torturous. Torture is the smooth brown skin at the base of your neck I want to touch so bad it hurts, Just barely exposed by the buttons left casually undone at the top of your shirt. Torture is thick black curls that beg for fingers to run through them- You run one hand through them thoughtlessly as I'm slowly becoming undone. Torture is you noticing, you seeing in my eyes that I want you, And your own bright black eyes that taunt me; "So what are you gonna do?" Torture is the sharp intake of your breath that tells me that you want me, With out the hard pressure of your body on mine I want so badly. Torture is the betrayal of my body as it becomes yours; it's without my permission That my body moves as it would to meet yours- I hate you for putting me in this condition. Torture is my skin becoming heated until inside my veins moves not blood but flame, And you encourage the fire until I fear it'll consume me; I'm already beyond insane- Torture is me begging you to stop, and you pushing me ever further, Until I'm sure that the greatest pain I've ever felt is this burning, aching, fever. Torture is you telling me that I should go to sleep, Acting as if you've done nothing at all to me.