If you wake up in the night,
in a pool of sugar sweat
then baby you know what it feels like
to be in utter love-death.

In the morning, I die a little
as I get dressed in my mind
The afternoon reprieves a little,
as I smile stupidly love blind.

The evening gets a little tricky,
as my hopes get laced with doubt
I shake my head, my hands and body
as I try to shake you out.

Nothing seems to help
as the suns intensify their burn
the ones at the edges of my fingers
that repeatedly refuse to learn.

Logic can get ******,
reason is long out of breath
in trying to keep up
with this feverish love-death.