With a pounding heart,
Pull me quick into your arms,
Sighing onto me,
The breath from your lips
On my neck,

Around my ear,
Whispering,
"I love you"
With your hand in my hair,
Rubbing me gently

Draw in,
Into your lungs,
The smell of my fragrance
Feel it spread out
Inside your chest

Exhaling into me,
With your lips against mine,
The essence of a thirst
Running deep from within
The chambers of your heart

Months of sweating
vetting every word written
Shivering over all
that remained hidden

Rocking back and forth
Recognising the demons scream
Asking to be fed more
Inside of empty dreams

Then the words, they spill
from cracked and broken lips
bleeding onto tissue paper
inking stains of fatal trips

Then comes the rush
a verbiage of torrential pain
Crouching on a backlit screen
pockmarked with finger stains

The first spike of adrenaline
fizzes inside a broken mind
The churning end to a journey
that has completely left you blind

Collapsing in upon itself
is the high that's found a low
and when the reader is gone
You wonder where you'll go?

Perhaps you'll find a new pusher
Someone else to feed your pain
Someone that will dig that needle
deep
even deeper into the vein

Hey
Ok
I know that you know that I can't say "I'm not good with words" because, let's be honest, that's basically the only thing I'm good at.
But what I'm not good at is you.
Or rather, how to use my words with you.
But I used to.
But now I just... I don't know.
Just like how I don't know what happened. How I don't know what I did wrong. How I don't know if I even did something wrong.
It just felt like... I don't actually have a great analogy to explain this but it felt ******.
Ok let me try this analogy.

It kinda felt like an Icarus moment.

Which is funny, given me name right now.
Let me explain.
You know how he died? How all he was doing was enjoying what he had. His freedom. How he never felt that freedom until then and then when he let himself experience it it ended up being his downfall. Literally.
That's what falling for you feels like. How it felt like.
I'm not gonna lie and say I wouldn't have fallen for you, but if things didn't turn out the way they did I'm pretty sure I could say I love you and not feel like I'm lying to myself about it.
I've never met anyone who fit so perfectly with me that it scared me at first.

It's always scary when you fly for the first time, right?

But when I did start falling for you it didn't feel like falling at all it feels like flying. It feels exhilarating and somehow taboo at first. How it feels like something so good should be something I shouldn't do.
But the more I knew you the more I flew. The more I soared high.
What I didn't know back then was that the more I flew, the more it'll hurt when I started falling.

Which I did.

When I needed you the most- no,
When I needed someone the most, you vanished.
Actually you didn't vanish. Which was worst.
It felt like you were there, constantly there, and yet you couldn't be to give me a single glance.

It physically felt like a punch in the heart.

But I guess that's my fault. Yeah. I know it's my fault. It's my fault for thinking you'll be there for me. It's my fault for expecting you'll do to me what I'll do for you.
I keep forgetting that when I confessed my feelings for you to you, you confessed your lack if feelings for me to me.

But this isn't what this whole thing was about.

This isn't a message for my past crush, nor is it for the one I'm pining on. It's a message for my best friend.
This message is for the one who I talked about living together with in London.
This message is for the one who showed me so much music that they knew I'll love
This message is for the one who told me that I loved rain just as much as they did.

This message is for you and this message is a hello or a goodbye, depending on you.

It is now 3:38 in the morning.
I should be sleeping but instead
Find myself traversing
The recesses of old notebooks
Trying to remember the me
Who filled them.
The dreamer that I was feels
Long gone sometimes.
The love I believed in washed away
With the seasons.
The imagined field that I would
Someday run through
Like a finish line seems lost.
Sometimes I can't remember
Why I started writing.
But here I am at the cusp
Of a new beginning,
Finding new reasons to hope
That tomorrow when I flip
Through these pages I will
Remember the me that wrote them.