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I tip toe.
I flee.
I don't need you.
You don't need me.
I sneak.
And I creep.
Dare not wake
your sleep.
The dark
The chills.
Must leave
These feels.
Flesh mounted
Breathing builds.
Feeling you.
I start to shield.
Sweet ****
Romantic thrill.
I can't let this
must spill.
I don't want your
trust deal
I see you sleeping.
Shoes on and fleeing.
I am now leaving.
My heart guarded.
This plot charted
It's time we parted.
I just can't love you.
Love brokenhearted Wednesday breakingup
It
I never wanted to admit it it. I hated that it stayed so long. However the more I tried to fight it, the more apparent it became. The deeper the roots, the stronger the hold. To the point of my beginning was its end and its end my beginning. I let it wrap me. Take all my energy and love. Even though I could feel it, I didn't want to admit it was there. So I moved only when it let me, I thought only want it allowed me to. I spoke when spoken to and overslept to the point of illness. I no longer cared. I no longer felt. I no longer…. I no longer…. I was longer.. There was no I. There was simply it. And it fell deeper. And then I knew I needed to turn. To face it. While there was still some small part of me that could.
The way my body fits into your hands is almost alarming. My instincts warn me to evade the situation, for nothing should fit as well as your fingers curving around my face. I stare toward the floor,  fighting the urge to look into your eyes. Your eyes are just as suiting as you hands. They match my eyes, in size and color. In depth and shine. We fit. My broken heart begs me to fight this. It pounds so loudly to remind me that that it is broken in two. The pieces clink together. Stop they sing. Then your whisper connects in my ear, making me thrive and twist. You whisper collects all my thoughts of doubt and remorse and cradles them, rocks them to sleep. You lips push against mine in a way that excites my very core and the flame it lifts in me is so hot and so bright, so very red...suddenly I'm not afraid of fire or pain. Rather, I want to touch it with my finger tips. Just to burn them. I want to burn them just to have you kiss them and have yet another piece of my body rest against your lips. Your hands fit my body so well. They can find me in the darkness. You burn me so  beautifully that I want to be burned alive.
-Jonni Rae

— The End —