I can't stop thinking about you (I think you're trying.)

Snatching me from the valley of luminescence,
Drowsiness is devouring my mind
Little by little.
But,
Before submitting myself in the chest of darkness,
The yearning for your tender touch
Is still keeping me awake…

With the melancholic long scream of night owl,
Hourglass is dropping sand grains
Little by little.
But,
Before surrendering myself in the arms of slumber,
The craving for your tight embrace
Is still keeping me awake…

“Poppysmic”
She uttered the word,
With a smile on the corner of her lips.
They were sitting on a stone bench
In the green shade of a huge chestnut tree,
Leaning against each other.
His fingers were playing with her brown hair,
While his rapid heart was fancying a kiss.
“What? ” He replied,
Lifting an eyebrow out of curiosity
For that unknown word.
She began, “This is the sound of…”
But his heart was not patient enough
To hear more, and instantly
His supple lips touched those soft lips of hers.
Pa – *** – smik
The sound occurred.
She winked and he giggled in joy
As the mystery of poppysmic was unlocked.

something about the late nights
driving alone with the windows down
listening to a soft melody
reminiscing all the old times
the good times
when life wasn't so complicated
it is pure beauty
feeling the most vulnerable
the most alone
it is such a joyous sensation
knowing that i can feel this way
whenever i need to get out
it's just as simple as starting a car
pressing play
and rolling the windows down

the tangibility of fallibility
is met between the coincidence
and insatiability of adversity,
the blissfulness of satisfaction
is met between the constant refraction
and abstraction of our instability,
distancing perceptions bound by
our misinterpreted misconceptions ,
take the contradictions of our minds
and use them as receipted expectations,
blinded by darkness for illumination
idyllically thriving on the absence of starvation
but the the realism of disdained relation put us
in a position of contempt fixation,
placement of a pedestal beneath my feet
misdirected direction towards a forked defeat,
a way to pain and a way to pleasure,
the destination of each concluded at cloudy weather,
atmospheric conditions leave injunctions towards
the ****** functions to deviate and meditate
the conflicted constant of mind and heart
and diverge from its obliged obligation from the start,
a denouncement expected right from inception
brought afloat a constant instance of introspection,
intrinsic emotions distorted at a love’s devotion
sparks a metaphysical claim towards a complex notion
of companionship and intensified intimacy;
an expectant of reciprocated sympathy
but when in reality, the thought of apathy
lies not within the partner,
but within me