Sometimes it's not the
butterflies
in your stomach
that tells you you're in love but the pain

You are not
Crazy
Or too
Sensitive

You bring value
To areas of
Your
Life

Do not allow someone else
to put you in a place
unworthy of you

Happy heavenly birthday best friend
It's been seven years
each year moving us closer to eternity

"Make love to me" she said.
"Use nothing but your words".

So I slid sentences down her chest
Scratched rhymes down her spine
And spilled soft, syllables into the curves of her neck.

I poured prose beneath her clothes
Left suspense in spaces and
Passion in sonant embraces.
I coloured her in cliches.

I kissed entire novels into her navel.

Her eyes gazed into mine as she began to unravel and unwind
As I slowly, unbuttoned, undressed
Indulged in and caressed
The fantasies in her mind.

Mesmerised, I memorised
Her from cover to cover.

Our bed the paper
Our hands the words
Our lips the verse.

Its a yearning
This loving lust
To once again
Taste the bitterness
Of your zoul
Taking
A morsel of your spirit
You know I can only
Enjoy you in doses
Binging would be sure death
A heavenly haven
My exhausted war struck
Heart
Will welcome one sweet day
What you call love is so toxic
I know I am not to blame, but
It is I who have yet to learn
Just how easy it is to
Simply let go and let God...