I wanted to tell you stories.
Whispered to you in dreams.
Written love letters.
Pressed into your skin.
I fear though that I’m not a great storyteller.
Your kisses seemed to forgive.

If wishes were kisses,
our eyes would be dry.
No counting the bottles
of tears we could cry.

We'd challenge the night-time,
to bring us our heart.
And when it arrives,
the end is the start.

I need a doctor that will write a prescription for your kisses

like CPR for the soul

nothing is more healing

than your lips on mine

i used to stay up with you and listen to music.
those songs would vary from sad to happy,
from in love to out of love.
one of our favorite albums was by a band
called mayday parade.
the album was titled "monsters in the closet".

we would always joke about real monsters
and you said you would always protect me.
unfortunately, you became the monster.
not in the closet but in my mind.
you take over and make yourself at home.
it's like i'm helpless.

all i think about is you.

is that what you wanted?
you wanted to get inside my head
and destroy me from the inside?

all i think about is you.

your lips on my skin,
the marks you left.
the ones that fade
and the ones i wish had stayed.

all i think about is you.

how do you protect me from
yourself?
why did it always feel like
i was the one that had to save you
from myself?

you were the monster.