i feel you in the valleys of my fingerprints. i feel you in the tissues of my lungs. i feel you in every wrinkle on my face, in the back of my mind, in the atriums of my heart, in the pit of my stomach. i feel you everywhere, all over me. you own a body, your mind doesn't even call home. you occupy a heart yours is incapable of loving. you overwhelm thoughts incapable of thinking about loving anyone except you. i feel you, but i haven't touched you in months.
is it bad that i wrote this poem about coffee/a boy that isn't good for me?