She takes her time tracing the lines of my body, but she doesn't need much, I soon feel the electricity of her touch,sending shocks of passion through parts of me I was unaware of before she introduced me to this new way of loving and being loved.

I watch her relish every moment, as she drives me to the edge of insanity, and I relax, allowing her to take me there, to a place where I'm unaware of anything else's existence, no matter where we are or who is around, I am simply lost in her.

It is a place I've never been able to reach before, one outside of myself, outside of my insecurities and constantly inhibiting thoughts.

A temporal paradox where minutes feel like hours that somehow pass so quickly. There is never enough time to feel like I've had enough of her.
        
I will never have enough.

Yet as I watch her I grow impatient, waiting for my chance to return the favor, to throw her down and make her forget, everything she's learned about passion before becoming aware of my existence.

I find my juncture and seize it flawlessly, before she notices what is happening, it is already done, her body succumbing to my every whim, allowing me to take the wheel.

Leading her slowly down the path of excruciating pleasure, reading her body like a map, her sighs the soundtrack to my road trip through the marvel that is her body.

I take in every sight, each it's own wonder of my world, and take the time to figure out what unlocks its secrets. And I find them, within the deepest parts of her. Trembling beneath the surface waiting to be seen and heard.

We go back and forth incessantly, in this confined space that we utilize every inch of without ever missing a beat.

The rhythm of our bodies inherently synchronized, intoxicated on the taste and scent of each other, we move seamlessly with the other, in the most elaborate dance, until we feel the satisfaction of our chemical reaction and witness the explosion.

Basking in the glow of the embers, we unwind and attempt to breathe only to realize we've exhausted the supply of oxygen in this utopia we've built in our own stolen corner of the world.

Glass box mirror,
she's primping and prepping,
neon lights in a smoky bar,
alluring and unrelenting,
swaying and swarming she is on the hunt, praying she isn't the one being preyed on.

I visit my shadows frequently, dipping in and out, through curiosity and in fear, I see myself, drowning in the darkness and I grasp for the lightest parts that I know exist to pull myself out.

It's a wondrous feeling, the ability to walk along the edge, to know what it means to live in both worlds and pretend you have the option to choose in any moment which side the coin is going to land on.

Who am I today? And how long will this last? What triggers the change or am I the trigger, My mind the gun?

Firing off thoughts so rapidly, the shield of my logic has no chance of standing in the way of my reactions. I am blinded by the flash of the sudden explosion and temporarily stunned.

Being the person that tries to "keep it all together" is a cause for major shrapnel when it all blows apart.

I thrived on beginnings,
Once upon a time... the fairytale romances.
The secrets that lie within the whispers of the woods.

Lost endings, the souls left behind.

We forged worlds beyond words,
within the boundaries of our minds.
We built walls to protect us,
against the odds of invasion by any force.
Any force other than ourselves that is...

I went from a lover to a liar in a heartbeat;
the flip of a switch as soon as I heard I could get what I'd been craving.

The jolt of electricity through your bloodstream, the feeling of being alive with your senses on fire, the ability to seem untouchable: superhero like even...

Almost nothing compares in that moment, but in the afterglow, when your cape begins to lose its wind and your heart starts to slow, nothing feels worse than pondering it's destined finale.

Discovering your conscience, all the while knowing that no matter how much you love someone, the poison always comes first.

It's a terrible reality, the ability to choose.

And I always choose wrong, down the path of the chemical adventure, knowing that at the end, I always inevitably fall off the cliff.

But it's an obsession: being on top of the world, and no matter how much time passes, or how far I think I've come, she always wins.

It's the slow onset, the clarity, the peaks where everything seems far better than it actually is, but now the dream is over.

I need to let it go or it will consume me; living in a false reality, locked in to my need for perfection.

She used to calm me and make me godlike, but now I've fallen from my pedestal and upon looking up, I see she turns me into the monster I've never wanted to be...

Hiding, in shame, from the soul I love the most. I wish I could tell her, divulge all of my secrets, but the fear of the disappointment on her face is too much for me to bare.

Because I know she could help me,
if I would just tell her the truth.