I don't remember the day I lost my favourite parts of myself. But I remember the day I realised they were gone.

In a way, an entire person had disappeared.

This person who would lay still with the lights off, eyes closed, and drink in every instrument of every song until the body melted and the soul was a rock ballad, if only for four and a half minutes.

So when her laugh makes a guest appearance in my dreams, I make sure to tell her I miss her.

So why is it
That at 3 am
I'm still thinking of you?

You're a virus.
A brain disease.
You entered through my lips
When you kissed them lightly.
And you're slowly but surely
Infecting all of my day dreams
(And leaking into the ones at night)

You're the drop of scarlet ink
in a glass of water.
You swirl and dance
And make beautiful patterns
Of your colour before
Turning the whole **** thing red
(Without any permission at all)

You're a slithering serpent
Tempting and forbidden
You tricked my gullible mind
And infiltrated my birds nest heart
Breaking away my outer egg shells
And revealing my raw and rotten self
(Instead of kindling in their warmth)

You're my favourite song that
I put twice on every mix tape.
You play in my head on repeat,
Always on the tip of my tongue
And in the back of my mind
Making me dance alone
(In my underwear late at night)

But last.
And worst.
And most plaguing of all.
You're
Not
Mine
(To call mine)