She by the river sat, and sitting there,
She wept, and made it deeper by a tear.

Anthea bade me tie her shoe;
I did ; and kissed the instep too:
And would have kissed unto her knee,
Had not her blush rebuked me.

I used to line my eyes,
Stained my lips red,
Picked a flirty dress,
And his day made;

I used to kiss goodbye,
Wake him with a smile,
Once I even made him cry,
But it was all worthwhile;

I used to write him love,
Long calls between hours,
For him mountains I'll move,
Just so the moment's ours;

I used to be a fool for him,
Put him first above others,
But once he cheated on a whim,
It was over in a matter of hours.

@byizn

It creeps in through the windows
and through the vents. Through the eyes,
and through the tongues, and through
the ears, perhaps, but always
through the eyes and always the tongues.

It creeps in through the words and
the mouths they arise from,
—always in whisper,
right below the earlobe,
with warm, tickled breath—

It creeps in through you and the
death is cruel and the death is
fair and the death is always eternal.
The death is cold and it is calculated
but it is always full of passion,
pulsing in the veins till the very moment
the heart comes to a stop.

It is love in the bathroom stalls.
It is love in the beat-down bars where the
beat-down people drink their lukewarm beer.
It is love in the truck bed on the side of
some unnamed, midnight mile down I-95.
It is love in the worst way.
It creeps in and it kills you,
and it kills you, and it kills you.
Each death a little different, but
death all the same.

In the morning there she is.
She’s making coffee, or in the shower,
or headed to work.
You’re looking for your pants,
or your shirt, or your wallet,
perhaps some combination of the three,

The whole time wondering
how the hell you’ll ever make it
out of this alive.

I have been fighting for so long;
I have been trying so hard;
I have been craving for my world to be turned upside down;
For love that will finally bring me out of my mind and back down to earth.

I've been denying myself love for fear of her loss.

The possibility of...
Inevitability.

A complicated woman to adore with a warm hand to hold.
A smile that's infectious with a personality that perplexes.

I'm not ready to love, because I still seek her.
Like a long lost friend that I hope will return someday.
Proving to me that although the people we love may change;

The feeling's always the same, no matter how many times you forget.

That's the funny thing about love. It changes, but it doesn't.
Somehow it's the same.
Maybe the lips are a little different, but it's a kiss none the same!