you know what I think? I think sleep is for people who aren't up all hours of the endless night spending each second whole heartedly loving someone. I think 2 a.m was invented for poets writing poems upon poems about the curvature of his jawline or how her lips taste like stardust and sunshine because one never seems to be enough and do beauty the justice that true love demands. how could you possibly sleep knowing you're wasting minutes and moments and hours spent being subconsciously elsewhere while her hands are empty and he's out there somewhere whispering to the moon and the stars and Jupiter and whoever else is willing to listen about how beautiful you are when you don't think anyone is looking? I once had an entire conversation with the sun about your laughter and the calluses on your palms and the very next night I found myself screaming your name at the sky demanding answers from a solar system that only offered even more questions. the north star swallowed my memories of my head on your chest and your heart beat in my ear and now all I'm left with are smudged letters and holes in the walls a little too big to fit my fists. I want to kick the door of history clear off it's hinges and choke on splinters of pride and apologies. I want to tell you that I intend to fill every single empty part of your heart with my hands and your hands with my soul. you told me I was beautiful. I always knew you were looking.

Firstly, I want to be the void in your chest. Secondly, I want to be the one who fills it. You continuously leave me ravenous for more. I want you. I want all of this with you, and it pains me that not everything I've ever experienced- that not every breath I've drawn was not shared with you. But every catch in my throat, every gasp, every tremble, every shudder, every moan that rips through my throat will be solely yours.
I will be solely yours.
Guide me. Move me. Teach me. Show me what you want. Give me the tools to shatter your world.
Rip away my insecurities and nervousness alongside my clothes.
Let me be the yearning in your eyes
Let me be the groan deep in your chest
Let me be the quickening of your heart
Let me be hushed voices
Let me be sweaty palms
Let me be heated breath
Let me be sly smiles and rough kisses
Let me breathe you in
Let me touch you
Let me hear you want it
Let me feel you writhe
Just don't let me go

The first time I smoked a cigarette
I felt the exhilaration of putting it to my lips
Sharp inhalation followed by sputtering coughs
Barely managing to pull in an even breath
Followed by a head rush
My stomach tied in knots and I questioned whether or not I would be sick
But I persisted, and choked it down

Eventually I got used to the taste
I grew to rely on the way my world would stop
My head swam, and time slowed down
My anxious mind was eased, if only for a moment
I craved it more than oxygen

I knew that it would be the death of me
Yet I couldn't walk away
I spent money I didn't have, just to get one more taste
I lost who I was to what I thought I needed

Such was loving you

Time went on and it strangled me
I felt like I could hardly breath

There is no nicotine patch for loneliness
And the nights of missing you still make me shake
But loving you was smoking

**So I quit