Sheltered

If an intelligence of an artificial nature were to inhabit the world we live in now,
resting within the confines of a corporeal avatar of sensual beauty, would this
object of inanimate origin ever contemplate whether she had a soul?

Where once
I was immune to jealousy,
my eyes, alas, swallowed whole
by discontent,
the feral plight of damnedest feelings
being unequaled
in their continuation.
Despite your sexless body,
my feelings would persist,
an ever-growing struggle of the heart,
won, always
because it never matters
what the outside presents.
Perhaps I only want you
for your mind,
to hear your ghost whispering in my ear,
to feel the touch of artificial flesh
upon my own.
Your strength, and ability to resist,
coupled by the mysterious gaze
of your ruby eyes,
shelters a soul so pure
it would be utter nonsense
to suspect you were little more than human,
and yet your heartbeat, the strings attached
plucked by synthetic wires,
is suggestive of something else.
But qualities in your leadership
represent the compassionate pull
of more than an empty husk,
and what I would not give to spare a moment
inside that mind of yours,
to witness the flurry of systems
traveling along the matrices
that make up your personality.
Although you can understand the gesture
of romantic sentiment on an intellectual level,
I am yet to comprehend if a feeling
of such magnitude could ever
touch your spinal column,
and cause the hairs upon your flesh
to tingle with mild trepidation.
Would your heart accelerate,
or would the temptation be ignored?
Would it be possible to love the person,
unconditionally and forever,
or are you really little more than a machine?

Yes, I am a Ghost in the Shell fanatic. Recently per-ordered my copy of Arise as well.
Ah, Major, I fear I may only ever have eyes for you. Meet you in 2030?

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