Whispering noise in my ears
Like little kisses on my forehead
Comforting and addicting
Wrap my cigarette around my lips
Inhale my toxic waste
I am your wonderland
I want to taste you
Sweet like honeysuckle
Bodies rocking
Beds breaking
Obliterating reality into euphoria
Traveling through time and space
Colors moving rapidly
At two a.m. In your bedroom
Undercover
Locked doors

I’m not sure I believe in auras but I do believe in vibes.
Different people make me feel different ways.
Instinct, I guess.
I have a friend who makes me feel like I just drank 3 Monsters, and can’t sit still, constantly moving, too nervous to be calm.
Another who feels like waking up late on a summer Saturday, curled up in bed, like sunshine and freshly washed sheets.
And a third who makes me feel like I just chain smoked a pack of Marbolo Reds and can’t focus, because everything is spinning.
I believe I have loved them all, at different times and in different ways, but I’m still not sure which of the three was the best for me.
Or if everyone I’ll come to love is going to give off a vibe,
I hope they do- maybe these “vibes” are my sign,
making it painfully obvious that these people are going to mean something to me.
A reminder to stick it out and keep my heart open.

Faces only remind you of
How lonely you are,
You say you've swam too far
Into the sea of your regrets
That I am your lifeboat
But didn't you hear
I sank long, long ago?

You've been searching
For a new home,
One that doesn't creak
Or shudder at night.
But homes are not people
And your voice cracks
As you point out
There's a welcome mat
By the front door
But I never answer
When you knock.

It's been a while since
I started attracting
Strangers with flashlights
To search me like
A haunted place.
I finally realized they
Were the ones that
Needed scaring away.

It's so odd to think,
You once told me
You saw beauty
In clifftops,
And I thought you
Were talking about
The view.

most nights
i'm only loving you
in fragments,
i'm only loving
you in death

i wander your
mind like a child in
search of it's mother,
but you were
orphanages
not loving homes

only drugs can
compare to
the feeling of
disillusion
i had when i was
with you.

i love you,
i crave
you

You are the strange delicacy of a bruise,
turning in color with the passing of the hours and
radiating with a lingering hurt.

You are like hot water to the skin,
beating and burning until it scalds the surface but
soothing a deeper pain.

You are the knife I turn inside myself,
the wound I pick at while it tries to heal,
the flame I hold my hand up against
even though I know how it hurts -

and that is the beauty and burden of love.