I Can’t Stop Dreaming About Your Lips On Mine
We don’t speak. Thumbs to jaws. Mouth to mouth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. In sync. There isn’t a sound in the room except the words to songs I don’t know reverberating through my core.
We don’t speak. Thumbs to jaws. Mouth to mouth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. In sync. There isn’t a sound in the room except the words to songs I don’t know reverberating through my core.
There’s something about you that is so intriguing. There’s something about you that makes me feel at ease.
I spent my time with you imploding and exploding, waiting on any reciprocity I could keep, until my palms were shredded with wounds from refusal to release the rope I tied around to hope that maybe you’d someday love me like I needed – like I deserved.
I just can’t understand how something without a label, how a thing that was never a thing, could seep into my veins; how it could make me feel so much, yet never good enough.
Try telling me I am not my disease on a day I’d walk through fire just to feel anything, or on a day I imagine what it would be like to sit at the bottom of the ocean and be drowned in its silence.
I know how special he can make you feel, when he tells you things that he says he’s never shared with anyone. I know, because he shared them with me, too.