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Apr 2015
Your lips taste like morning dew dripping off of a flower petal, storing all the sugary sweetness of a captured sunrise. Or, like a lightening bolt, making the hairs on my arms raise, then bow down to you when you kiss my neck with warmed lips. Or, like rusty spigot water, but I can't stop drinking you, it's like I'm living in a drought, and you're my only source of H2O. Before you, around 2, maybe 3 AM, teabags would bleed brown, unsweetened blood rivers down my cup, and my throat, would conjure a hiccup, that would burn my chest, like a 2,400 degrees kiln. Our hands, clank and clink, like we're two dishes in a soapy sink, but we know how to ****** ourselves correctly, so we don't discrete our cranny veins. My heart is like a beet, the vegetable, pumping purple dye in my veins, making them look spider-like, or like smudged pen-ink. That's what writer's veins consist of, the inky words they write with their ball-point-pens. The way you kiss my head, my lips, my cheek, my hand, you make the butterflies in my heart come alive, like fireflies trapped inside a jar. My collarbone, your wishbone, my knuckles, 10for10 simple bones to be kissed, my head, precious, leaning, my scalp, awaits to be felt by your friendly lips. When we're apart, I get motion sick from missing you. I will write about you, forever. I love you, and I don't need my language for loving you drenched in alcohol for my true feelings to show. I talk about happiness, like it's something to take off. Being happy, with you, is simple. I'm weirder than you, maybe weirder than what you want, but weirdly good am I at being what you want, all you want. I like when you compare me to impossible things, like the unsure feeling of whether you're having a heart attack or a heart attract. You're kind the point of seeing, I could look at your face all day long. I love it when you worry about making sense, but nobody really ever makes sense, and that's the beauty of being human. Your voice pulls summer bones from earthen graves, your voice is beautiful, so beautiful, it's my favorite song. I'm in plant with you, and my plant for you grows daily.
Kaitlyn Marie
Written by
Kaitlyn Marie  Hartford, Ohio
(Hartford, Ohio)   
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