I have to steady myself
when I think about your rough skin
worn with battle scars
and tattoos.

I bite my lip
at the thought of your thick eyeliner
around those eyes that are forever blue with youth.

My ears ring
with the longing to hear
that deceivingly young voice
with that funny crackle

I can't tear my eyes from you
as you roll
then light
a cigarette faster than I blink

My back arches
when I think of you
so often
in that way.

You are my life.
my universe.
my fantasy
my reality
my all and everything.

To you I'm an ant,
a petty pup to pet.

But I don't mind.

I don't mind how you smell of smoke
or that when you breath it out
my lungs disagree and cough.

I don't mind that you probably know how you effect me
and that your wish is my command
my heartache
and that if you look at me and say you want a change
I won't hesitate to cut it off
or starve
or drown
and blacken my lungs
I don't mind that you are a demon
I so happily let corrupt me.

I sigh so often at the thought of you.
Beautiful and deadly
grotesque and graceful
ashy like you crawled up from the depths below.

I admire how sick you are,
I lovingly dote on your whims
I worship you no matter what they say
no matter how dark you seem
no matter how I know it kills away what I once was.
but it doesn't matter
and I don't mind,
because you make me happy.