in loving you, every memory that i have of myself has dissolved into nothingness
coffee in the morning is no longer sufficient why
has my head become a globe that can barely balance on its tiny pedestals?
in my solipsistic dreams somehow i can see your silhouette
even in the solace of my slumber you still manage to penetrate my inner most and intimate thoughts
like a shadow
that strays from the light
particles that amass and then leave again
the daisy to my gatsby-esque ideals of romance and hope
shaky visuals brought on by a familiar melody that conjures a memory that has given me stockholm syndrome
you are the captor but i
i am a willing victim
if hannibal lecter could dine on his friends, you can have me as dessert
and it wouldn't matter, for my life
has till this moment, been devoid of the one thing everybody seeks
love, in all its permutations and essence.