We always make sure to hold each other.
We always cry to be wrapped in
each other,
heated embraces,
breathless kisses;
trailing bodies and entwining limbs.
I pen this wrapped in your abandoned
bed sheets,
the lingering smell of you staining my skin.
I sprawl over where you laid,
hoping to take in as much as I can of you.
I pen this while we’re disentangled,
to let you know something.
Please don’t loosen yourself from me.
Please, I worry when I wake
in your bed to find you were never
once there; you were never once taking me in your arms.
I pen this because I’ve realised what
makes it so painful,
to imagine you lost from me;
a distant, faded smudge in a photo album.
You’re a biochemical addiction,
a drug I can’t seem to avoid, I can’t seem
to stop taking my daily shot.
A sheer addiction rooting me down to my
bare bones.
I pen this because what we are is purely
selfish.
Relationships are purely narcissistic.
Lost in reflections of each other,
I want to love you as much as I can
while I want you
to love me as much as I can only try to love myself.
I pen this to open up the box of secrets that
sleeps between us.
To open up the lies we paint on each other’s skin,
when we lie in bed and dream across each other.
We bury our hearts in the beautiful rubble of
romance, ecstasy, heated passion and blissful reunions
of bodies and loves.
But really we cover our insecurities.
We believe we are worthy only when we know
we can be desired by another.
We believe in love, only when we are the object of attention,
not in our own eyes, but reflected in yours.
I pen this because we are each other’s poetry.
The sketches I get to make of you,
the colours you can pull out of me and place
on your canvas.
I pen this,
because it’s so impossible to let you go.
