My reality I choose to deny or is it an allusion

How my heart beats when I look at her.

How I wish I could raise my voice, or whisper I am the G- word

How sometimes the feeling is so strong, how denying it seems like lying to myself

But I am scared of hell

Like a dog craving for his own vomit, 
I dream of the past, of the opportunity to have her in my arms and not feel the guilt, or is it ignoring the guilt

I laugh about it, while deep down I long for it,

I pray against it, while a part of me longs for it, just once more.

But I am scared of hell or is my love for the one who sustains me stronger than my fear?