Its just an hour until I see you every drive that we make
I don't count the change in minutes
Like quarters in my hands
Or collected rocks on my mother's windowpane
The distance becomes shorter with song and romance on the heart
Knowing it's all temporary
Maybe one day we won't be an hour apart
I've had this distance before between a former suitor and I
But he didn't have the same look in your eyes
As when the hour is up and the reunion rejoices

An hour is just an hour, my love, to the heart's tenacious choices

Am I a catalyst?
A perfect equationalized lesson before
Before the rest happens?
Just when I find the love of my life
They find theirs after me
Painfully
And while its bubbling and brewing like a sour cup of black coffee
You thank me for my time because without me
You wouldn't have met her
You wouldn't have learned
The reason you treated me one way
But not her.
So next comes the ring and everyone's eyes are magnetically glued
But I was just the catalyst, the formula you needed to use
And now I'm just evidence of what led her to you

Is she a ghost to you
Like how he's a ghost to me?
Let's let them go together
And run away, free.
Yes, I know- it's haunting
But if you keep turning around for a look
You'll only haunt your heart and set it up to be spooked

So let go of the ouija board that became our phones
Because our ghosts of love will only haunt us if we forget we're not alone

Sometimes I wonder if
I'm good enough for your love
Like a missing ingredient to the best batch of cookies,
I'm looking for something between us that I fear isn't whisking in your veins
Stir, stir
Passion is a rare ingredient
Often improvised with lust
But passion is the concrete between our building blocks of what's US
It's the egg whites holding everything else together
And yet this egg isn't cracking
This flower isn't blooming
Or is it in my mind?
Am I thinking too much?
The looking glass of social media only steals happiness while we compare strangers to a timeline that isn't now
It isn't now
And while I'm asking myself "why did he publicly debut her presence in his life but not me?"
Stir, stir. Remind yourself of the kiss you shared on your couch in your dim candlelit apartment when he kissed you. REALLY kissed you.
Yeah. Remember that?
Passion is a rare ingredient and I'm just cracking the egg

He was the Michelangelo
to her plain cathedral walls
He was the stain glass lighting
Her dark and somber halls
Painted hands reach for the heavens
Like he reaches for her veins
His delicate nature to her cherry windowpanes
The smell of sage and myrrh  
Became the perfume on her skin
He was her Michelangelo
And he had yet to begin

They met but through a screen
In a futuristic world
Where relationships were built long before
Actually. Meeting. Someone.
Two artists. One soul.

But she longed for capturing all five senses of him and his masterpiece mind
Her heart races every time she wonders how his concentrated eyes look,
Carefully painting the brush strokes on his canvas.

She thought of the senses and counted them out with her fingers;
"Sight, sound- I've seen and heard you on the phone.
What was left? Ah, yes- touch, and smell, and taste."

She wondered what he would feel like in her embrace.
She wondered what he would smell like- of natural sandalwood? Cologne?

Then she remembered the last sense, taste.
"To taste you on my lips," she thought, "would be art."

I have a new fear in my mind
I never thought it would exist
That my lover could leave me
For death's cold, thorny kiss
Although he still lives,
With a beat in his veins
The possibility is there
And must be suppressed everyday
His demons are not demons
But only one monster
She sits on his lap, sometimes his shoulder
He works hard everyday to turn her away, a sight he doesn't want to see
Addiction is a *****,
And she wants him to cheat on me