Inside me are moths.
Obnoxiously flapping, they refuse to resist,
scraping my insides with froth.
Ignoring them, I ball up your collar in my fist.
As harsh as you are, I don’t refuse your kiss.
Goosebumps litter my skin.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”, I hiss.
I hate how I fall to my sin.
Entranced by your cursed gaze,
My stomach bursts at the seams.
Flashes of hazel throw me into a daze,
My heart palpitates in broken, unnatural beats that scream for release.
The moths do not release.
This isn’t right.
I wake up in a cold sweat filled with regret.
So He clears my sight.
I pray for satisfaction that I cannot forget.
And so the urge disappears,
Along with fleeting dreams of you and I.