So beautiful--God himself quailed
at her approach: the long body curved
like the horizon. Why had he made
her so? How would it be, she said,
leaning towards him, if instead of
quarreling over it, we divided it
between us? You can have all the credit
for its invention, if you will leave the ordering
of it to me. He looked into her
eyes and saw far down the bones
of the generations that would navigate
by those great stars, but the pull of it
was too much. Yes, he thought, give me their minds'
tribute, and what they do with their bodies
is not my concern. He put his hand in his side
and drew out the thorn for the letting
of the ordained blood and touched her with
it. Go, he said. They shall come to you for ever
with their desire, and you shall bleed for them in return.

I always fear the day will come
When I will stop loving you
Your arms no longer my home
Your voice no longer the echo
Your presence no longer needed
Your kiss won't keep me sedated
I fear I have to walk up to you
Saying those four painful words
But it is something I must do
Even if it is a selfish act
But you can't possibly call it love
When I do not feel the same way

A little discipline oughtta do you good,
Just like my father, when in the mood,
Would lay his problems down on me,
Gave scars that turned to poetry,

So I learned to take the damage well,
And in that time, I learned to spell,
So pain would not mean misery,
And It could hide in poetry

Please be careful. I know his intelligence is intoxicating, and his presence is a drug that refuses to leave my system and in return give me side effects. Wonderful, wonderful side effects

But stomach, you will ache for days at a time. Pounding wings against your sides send sharp tinges of amusement through my body. He's not the first boy to give you butterflies, but he is certainly the first to let lose a zoo.

Arms, stop pulsating for just a moment please! I know you need to soak up his embrace, but it will only leave burn marks on the skin. He is a hot coal, brutally beautiful, and it will only leave you with a scar.

Oh, but eyes! You see him so differently. An elegant light surrounds his frame, and every imperfection is that much more entrancing to you.

My poor brain. Thumping emerges and the blissful images of his smile refuse to dull. I beg you to stop thinking. Of him. Of me. Of us. Stop thinking of him, when in the brilliant ocean of his mind I am not a single wave.

I just need to close my eyes and forget...drift off .... but it's hard to sleep when your mind is at war with your heart.
Heart.
      Heart.
           Heart please stop buzzing at uncontrollable rates. His enthralling outlook is no reason to go into cardiac arrest. I promise you, as much as you hope and pray, brain is right. He'll end up being like all of the others, and I don't know how many more times I can pick you off the ground.

His presence is a drug, and I'm addicted to every part of it

Update: I overdosed