“Her body may lay on your sheets, but my name sits softly on your lips.”

The rain reminds me of his voice, a perfectly composed melody in the sky. Each drop that falls against my window, a dedication to the oceans I would cross – just to sit beside him.

I think the scars that you left me, they remind me you were real.

I’m scared of mediocrity, of scribing my soul on fading pages, each destined to the fate that met those before it – gently laid to rest in a growing pile of unwanted words.

Words hold little scope, for a love that stretches far beyond the limitations of language.

Spirits dance on a velvet night, the sky it’s deepest black. In restless sleep and twisted dreams, they find themselves alive.

Your arms around me – and for the first time in years, I feel like I am home.

And in the end when the money is gone – will you still stay it was worth it.

And when I imagine my home – above all else, I’ll always think of you.

In the end it’s all the same – the hearty fire or the damp earth. I pray I’m not alone.

I feel like I’m on fire, fighting for a moment on respite – I’m not placing bets.

I read that good things take time – but one look at him, and I knew I could never love someone more.

The bond of friendship as tight as any lover – where shoulders carry shared burden, a devotion unmatched by any other.

What use is sleep, when reality is more beautiful than my dreams could ever muster?

You are a mirage – never mine to hold. A glimering promise so tempting to chase, eternally out of reach.

My throat burns with the words left unspoken, air hangs still and silence hides the words you long to hear – stay.

A full glass for an empty heart – the temporary bandage for a fatal would.

Grace juice dripping from your chin you lick your lips basking in the tremors of my shoulders.

May your lips convey, what your heart has buried in.- A one-sided lover

Kiss me like my lips are the oxygen you need to survive or the passion you need to thrive.

Those lips on mine: Not I want you, but I need your kisses.

Waiting a lifetime to touch your lips again wouldn’t be too long.

And I don’t know if it’s his lips or his fingers that make thousands of roses bloom on my skin.

Your voice sends vibrations through my ears, as the frequency of each word that falls from your lips, tracing every bone of my spine, making me weak.

With him, I fly high in the bluest of skies for his lips kiss all my worries goodbye.