Your breathing is the only thing
I want to hear when I’m done,
not even that.
Tongue laced with the sweetest venom.
– A Six Word Story by The Incomplete
You nearly saw me cry.
You nearly saw me
convey emotion physically.
You nearly saw me
at my most vulnerable.
It has continued to beat through everything I’ve been through. My heart never quit on me even when I was ready to.
As you are more beautiful than my eyes can take in at once, I can catch only glimpses of you that leave me breathless and when I do manage to catch my breath, it’s only when your face is buried into my chest and you’re feeling my heartbeat steady from what I saw just a moment before. Then you lift your face from my chest and look up at me, I breathe you in, and my heart rate rises and you bury your face in my chest once again, continuing the vivacious cycle of you making my heart race and you feeling it beat strongly and slow down as I catch my breath.
You are comparable to the drag of a cigarette. You fill me with your air and as I exhale and catch my breath, I know that you are slowly killing me, but yet I still take another deep breath of you.
Falling in love is more like falling on a sword, with the exception that swords don’t lie. They tell you straight away that they’ll cut your fucking heart out.
Loving yourself is the first step to knowing what real love is. Everything else comes easily after step one.
The monsters weren’t hiding
under my bed.
The monsters were living
inside of my head.
And no matter what poison
I take, they survive.
They only feed.
They cannot die.
My greatest advice to you would be
to live life, love often, feel everything,
and don’t be afraid to make mistakes
because even after all that I’ve done,
the mistakes I’ve made, and heartbreak,
I was still given someone wonderful:
Bed Too Big
I have an empty spot next to me,
if you’d like to fill it.
Little Lover’s Lies
Moonlight shining on the heathers
reveals the sadness in our eyes
teardrops falling from the heavens
lament our little lover’s lies
Two hearts twisted slowly dying
separated from love’s fountain
our chasm grew so deep and wide
neither dared to climb the mountain
Asking what we might have been
but for the guilt neither denies
and now there’s nothing left to say
save for sorrow’s silent goodbyes
And we both turn and walk away
damning those little lover’s lies
With my lips, I want to write
poetry on your skin
and hear you read back to me
what I’ve written with yours.