like a cigarette, ignited and raised to your scornful lips
you made me your addiction
and i let you consume me

Your caesious eyes
have more
adventure
than your soul
could ever learn to
occupy.

When did you trade
happy days
for

haphazard

smiles?

words left me behind
i screamed but nothing came out
i wrote but the paper remained blank
for the ink is dry and so is my heart

Never have I ever dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul.

Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin

You are my unsent message.
The cursor blinking rhythmically,
With my heartbeat,
Waiting,
For me to hit send.
But I am not ready,
And I’m not sure if I ever will be
So I left it like that.
Unsent. Unseen. Unread.
“I miss you.”