consumed by the thought of love, the way i used to think of it, what i used to think it was, the blind spots that came along as side effects.
the touch, the way eyes met in a different way
i was so afraid to write about love, feeling weak in the knees, the way it provoked me,
the way i melted into it, how i became a puddle in the midst of such a powerful emotion.
a connection i pushed away, biting away and itching my skin,
i wanted to feel good on my own, to feel the greatest peace on my own, to rise in love with my own life instead of falling for another, to ascend and never descend.
the pool of vulnerability, something so hypnotizing, the shade of blue it portrayed, yet the aftertaste of blood in my mouth, from the times i bite my tongue to not say those three words. to not use that four letter word.