To Her

I hate when I don’t get a reply from you. I also hate that I haven’t heard your voice in four days. I hate that you live so far from me. I hate that you’re the first person I think of when I get up, but I also like that it reminds me of the good times we’ve shared. I like to read our conversations but I hate that there aren’t more of them to read. I can’t look at the color red or pink without thinking of you. But it makes me miss you. It makes me smile when I think of how affectionate you are when we’re together, but I don’t like how distant you are when we’re apart. I don’t know if to call it an infatuation, or if I’m actually feeling something for you. We’re not committed to each other but the thought of someone else enjoying your presence makes me cringe. The thought of them getting to feel your skin, smell your hair, kiss your lips, and bask in your radiance is difficult to bear. I wish I could just turn a switch and make these feelings go away when you’re not around. It’s painful. I want to skip this part where I’m competing for your attention. You have all of mine, when will I have all of yours?

Don’t Forget

Don’t forget you’re beautiful. You’re beauty personified. You make men tremble when you walk by. You make every igneous piece of matter burst back into flames. There’s no end to the glimmer in your eyes. If I had only one sight for the rest of my breathing existence I wish it were you. Incomparable in your confidence. Your voice can reach my drums in the vacuum of space. It’s unique, unmistakable, musical. You smell of a thousand roses dancing in a crisp spring morning breeze. Your taste is sweet, like cherry pie. Your skin smooth and inviting. I need a night with you, maybe two. I want to make your body shiver as it’s driven to ecstacy. I want this memory of you forever. Don’t forget I want you forever. 

Those Words Are Dangerous

Those words she says to you. Syllables have never been so beautiful. They make you feel invincible. The right ones coming from her perfect lips. A piercing  sound through a flawless smile. This moment is sublime, until it changes. 

Hours come and go, that perfect moment is long gone; but you were unaware that behind her eyes was the truth. Those words were dangerous because they carry an air of uncertainty. Your ears hear one thing, your mind another, and your heart braces itself hoping for the best. Those words are dangerous because they change overnight. One night she’s yours, in your bed, in your clutches, the next she’s gone, not looking  back. 

Words aren’t final, they don’t mean anything. 

One Decent Leg

This is the time when things get deep. This is the time when I start thinking about the heartaches and the stressful moments that led to bad decisions. The texts I couldn’t unsend, the words I couldn’t unsay, the hopes and dreams I couldn’t take back—empty promises. Dreading the thought of having ever taken someone’s happiness and replacing it with sorrow.

 “That wasn’t me, it couldn’t have been, I’m not that kind of person.”

I lie to myself and pretend I’m not capable of hurting. I know the feeling too well to place it on someone else. If only it were true. If only I weren’t human, then I wouldn’t have that capacity. I’m a decent person. I don’t do it intentionally, I don’t do it because I want to, I don’t do it because I enjoy it. It just happens. Again, and again, and again, and again… 

She Was.

Her skin was soft. Her skin put me at ease. Her skin pulled away my angst, stress, and haziness. It was therapeutic in its endless sublimity. It felt better when she loved me. She felt better when she knew me. She tasted better when I knew her. Her heartbeat told a story. Her breath exuded her essence, her aura, the thing that I couldn’t see, only felt. She had the power to open my eyes. I was born again inside her, no longer wondered what it would be like inside that work of art. There was nothing sweeter than her. When I was with her I knew who I wanted to be, where I wanted to be. I couldn’t convince her to feel the same. She drifted and I sailed. 

Wondering

Bewilderment fell upon me as I sat and gazed at her reflection, taking it in, tasting its colors and seeing its flavors. My mind began to run and I tried to remember the time when I was satisfied just by seeing her on the platform every morning. Time became muddled and I couldn’t figure out when that was no longer enough. I lost sight of the transition. When did just the simple sight of her stop making me happy? At what point did that desire to just look turn into the desire to speak, then to touch, then to kiss, to fuck, to love, to hold and caress. When did she become a necessity?

At some point in history my breathing became shortened and my heart’s palpitations banged against my chest begging for her presence because her sight was not enough. I was reduced to a bulb with no electricity. She became the Tesla to my coil, the one that gave me life, the being that wound me up at the start of my day and kept me going. For without her I’m reduced to nothing. Useless and forgotten, lifeless and rotting, a mindless zombie wandering without a purpose; wondering if this feeling is forever, or if I will grow tired of her. Is she just a phase? Am I just HER phase?