Anger, Sorrow, Happiness, Jealousy
Gears of my personality
Rotating in the commotion
Shifts in  the air making it hard to breathe

Leaving should be easy but
Makes me queasy

Felt the warmth radiate off you,
Hands touching the skin on my cheek,
Your voice vibrating through my body

"YOUR MY *****!"

The thought of him makes me itch