passive aggressive

From the doorway, I struggled for control,
eyes locked, as my jaw, on yours.
But you deny my council, flaunt rebellion,
and revel in the quickening of my pulse.

What am I to do with you, little girl?
How many times will you persuade buttons,
flex your fingers and undo me?
For answers; uninterested, unwanted,
lie stripped and empty upon the floor.

So we stare at one another, alone.
You the fairer, but I the farther,
frustrating all your passionate fire,
with the cold distrust of distance.

From the doorway, neither of us wins.