My lips have always craved the taste of danger.
Maybe it is because I don't know what's good for me
or I'm in love with the high I get from it
The high that takes me to the heavens,
surpassing the pillow-like clouds
resting against the azure canvas
I remember the taste so vividly,
I salivate at the thought of it
It's sweet like candy,
the sugary goodness
rushing inside my veins
delicately coating my tongue
bites between my teeth
explode into a thousand little pieces,
dancing inside my mouth
Your succulent lips pressed against mine,
remind me of the taste of summer strawberries,
juicy and tender with citrusy undertones
we're kissing like there's no tomorrow
Oh how I feel your lips part from mine, then touch
and part again the way the clouds greet the sky
Before a rainy afternoon
How can something so bad taste this good?
Oh I'm convinced your kisses are a drug
Nice to play with, but toxic to the mind
Kissing you must be equivalent to intoxication
shockwaves through my body,
the paralyzing euphoria
I don't think I could ever give you up
This addiction is taking control

I wish I was in love, so I could write a love poem again.

I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.

It's 3 am, when you try to seek for help.
It's 3 am, when you've tears in your eyes.
It's 3 am, when all the memories hit you.
It's 3 am, when you regret the goodbyes.

It's 3 am, when the darkness scares you.
It's 3 am, when you've noises in your head.
It's 3 am, when you miss everyone at once.
It's 3 am, when you wish you were dead.

It's 3 am, when you can't save yourself.
It's 3 am, when you get hurt a little more.
It's 3 am, when you just hate yourself.
It's 3 am, when you only feel insecure.

It's 3 am, when you love lyrics more, not song.
It's 3 am, when you only know what's wrong.
It's 3 am, when you are alone, no one to care.  
It's 3 am, when you ask if you belong somewhere?

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj