he is not heaven. he is not a deep breath of fresh air after being trapped inside for so long he is suffocation. when his saturated fingers touch me I am filled with a never ending fire that keeps me awake until two a.m. and makes me question everything I've ever believed. he likes to swear up and down on the metal cross around his neck and pretend he is God when he looks at me. his kisses are never filled with love they are filled with narcotics and taste like a bittersweet kind of hatred. he smokes quietly and slowly inhaling every toxic fume and making clouds big enough to convince you that they are skies. everything about him screams shades of cool he is blue he is black his smile is gold his eyes are grey and he is the color spectrum at its darkest. he speaks quietly and laughs loudly and cries silently when he thinks nobody can hear him. I wake up every morning to the sound of tiny bullets of water scorching his back but he likes the burn so I do not say a thing. he loves the way I sing and teases me endlessly and whispers ****** things when our friends are around because he is an exhibitionist. I do not know what this is. I do not know who he is. but at the same time I do not know who I am either, we are cataclysmic together and wreak havoc wherever we go but there is something so beautiful about what a disaster we are together that i do not want to say goodbye. he is the lover I never have to worry about loving back and that if nothing else matters
"oh **** i think i'm falling in love again. someone pass me the *****, this is going to be one helluva year"