every single line on my body holds a memory
i’m usually embarrassed
the weird stares i get or the occasional questions from elders who don’t understand
sometimes people will even joke about it
or this one time a girl from my class told everyone i do it for attention
and at one point it might have been for attention, because i wanted someone to notice, to save me from my anguish
i always did have this obsession of being able to turn my mental pain into visible hurt
now i simply try to put it into words
and so when the sun comes out and the heat strokes start i try to cover them up
but at one point it got too hard to hide
and even though i’m better now, i’ll always be marked for life
i’m branded by my nightmares
but the monstrous marks tell a story
i’m alive and i’m full of memories
and even though most are bad, there’s a reason i’m here to show them

were we really the same person or did we just try to convince each other because we both had broken souls that just wanted to be loved
i can’t stop thinking about that innocence years ago when we were just sad kids afraid to even move an inch closer
what i would give to go back if i knew what life would become, that it could get even tougher and colder and uglier
i would trade anything for a moment more of innocence with you
but i guess as we grew up, we had to adapt
and i’m glad at least i got to experience your skin on mine before the world collapsed

i burned out like a fire
can anyone reignite my last spark
i think im turning to ash

i say “goodbye”,
  but you pry and reply:
“will I see you again” -
                                               probably not - i say
and then i see you again

If everything is going well
then something must be wrong

You were my favourite smell for a while.
I inhaled you like you were the nicotine I so desperately needed to stay sane.
I came close to your body to smell the summer breeze, to feel like I am once again a free child walking along the shore.

On a sad afternoon, I spend the whole day browsing the drugstore, searching for a perfume that would even slightly resemble you. I can’t find it.
The next day, I smell something rotten. Something must have turned sour.
I turn around to see what it is. It was you.

I love everything about you. I love your smell, from the way your cologne and deodorant sticks to your freshly washed skin to the way your natural musk smells when you sweat through a hot summer night stuck to me. I love how your skin is always soft, it brushes up against my thighs and cheeks like a blanket of the highest quality. Your voice is deep, but comforting and I adore all the sounds your body makes, especially the little grunts and sighs. When you speak soft words in my ear, I just melt into soft butter and I even love the way your silly words tease me, even when I get upset. Your bone structure is manly, but in a way that your body wraps around mine ideally when we hug. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunshine is like fairy dust and I could get lost in your gaze forever.
Your hand fits into mine perfectly and your tongue twists perfectly with mine when our lips collide. The movement of your hips with mine is like a metronome to my heart. All you could do is sleep and eat and I would never get tired of watching you. If you were a colour, you would be your favourite, purple, because it represents devotion, pride, mystery, magic and nobility. If you were a smell, it would be freshly cut grass on an early summer morning. Most people would say love feels like a sunny summer day, but ours is like one of those spring days where the temperature is fit for flowy dresses, but the sky is filled with some dark clouds that pass in the evening and there is a slight warm wind breezing through everyone's hair. Every single evening when you tell me you love me over the phone my stomach flutters with butterflies. As an item, you would be my favourite comfy old sweater. I love every single imperfection on your skin and in your soul. If I were to describe hanging out and having fun with you, the closest thing I could compare it to is the first bite of a freshly baked warm cinnamon pastry. I used to hate the idea of life, but if we were to create a family I would actually want to grow old with you. If there exists a heaven, it would be us sharing a fresh lemonade and chuckling next to a lake where tiny birds chirp and eat the crumbs of the bread we baked together. If you were a drink, you would be high quality whiskey and lastly, if you were a person, you would be mine.