Lips like origami,
eyes like ice.
Hands like soap,
heart like darkness.
It’s dark versus light,
temptation versus innocence.  
I shouldn’t—I know—
but I can’t shake you off.
It’s fights at a wedding,
death on a birthday;
swearing in church,
hurting someone you love;
a book without an end,
your favourite song sung out of tune;
leaving without goodbyes,
spilling someone’s dark secrets;
sleepless nights,
a child without a home;
drinking until you puke,
lying to someone you love;
it’s wrong in every sense
of the word.
But once again,
it’s hands against
heart,
and we all know who will win.
We’re the epitome of dangerous,
crossing on territory that should not be touched.
But I can’t stop.

I awake in a sea of regret,
drowning in sweat that laces my skin,
and aching from the harsh beats of my heart.  
It’s 3am and my body refuses to succumb to sleep;
my mind is screaming at me,
like an angry child in a tantrum,
and my thoughts ricochet against the walls of my head.
They’re perpetual and relentless,
forbidding me to rest.
World war 3 begins in my head
during the dead of night.
No one else can hear the plummeting bombs,
the murderous gun shots,
or the screams of the victims.
The world around me remains completely oblivious.
I’m silent throughout the midst of battle.
I surrendered long ago.
I lost long ago.
I waved my white flag,
yet my mind will not abandon the battle.

Sometimes I get so angry with myself.
In my head I make myself explode into a
thousand tiny pieces,
like shreds of paper that once held the finest literature,
filled with pretty metaphors,
but are now nothing more than a writers destroyed soul.
I get angry because I’m not that writer.
I can’t fumble through
my cluttered head
to find the words to compare you to the stars and the moon.
I can’t dig beneath the mess
and conjure up the most extravagant metaphor
to let you know how incredible you are.
Words are my only weapon,
they’re my only friend,
but when I need them most
they fail me.
Because I don’t think there’s a word to describe you.
You’re not the stars and the moon –
you’re so much more.
You shine brighter than anything the human eye can see.
I’m angry because I need to let you know how brilliant you are.
The burning desire in your heart
is so much stronger than any word I can think of.
I’m falling apart;
I’m shreds of paper,
shards of glass beneath your bare feet,
broken pieces of your heart.
I’m not good enough.
You’re the stars and moon
and I’m dullest shade of grey.