A touch of poison;
A kiss of death.
Your hugs were wreaths
Enclosed with regrets.
Writings of a Phobophobe.
A touch of poison;
A kiss of death.
Your hugs were wreaths
Enclosed with regrets.
“You’re not my type.”
But the eyes don’t lie.
And love, we might.
Let’s ride the high,
Gotta be your kryptonite.
No, don’t let my heart die.
Killed with that smile,
Please let it last.
Paintings of you,
Made with brushes of lust.
Play with this child,
All night till dusk.
Now close up that mile,
Come into me fast.
All you wanted was never ever;
I could be that never never ever.
–
She wanted that happily ever;
But I could be the one that wavers never.
–
We thought of forever never,
Damn we knew it wasn’t forever ever.
–
Come and be my ever lover,
I promise I’ll never ever.
Silently side by side,
We laid.
It was unspoken chemistry
In bed.
I wanted hugs,
You stayed.
Just long enough to get to
My head.
You drove to get us coffee
And bread.
It was me
You played.
You have nothing,
You said.
All that I wanted was you
Instead.
Your smile and kisses on my
Forehead.
You left then — your eyes
Were dead.
Each night I prayed, I plead and
I wept.
I wished we had been normal and went on
A date.
You never came back and I call that
Heart break.
Now all I remember is your charm that
I hate.
Emotions,
She was trying to hide.
Been a year,
Waiting to subside.
Insecure,
Desperate for a guide.
Perhaps a man like him,
To bring her light.
A spell you threw my way,
Oh, I remembered that day.
Triggered my mental disarray,
Oh, now you gotta pay.
It was the first week of May,
Back when I was still gay.
It was crazy in a way,
That was before you got away.
How are you?
Like a fish without water in its gills.
I miss you.
You’re my heart’s Achilles heel.
Seeing you makes me stronger.
I’ve been really weak.
Am I drunk or am I sober?
I reckon, just lovesick.
Great difference it is,
To love and to be in love.
Love is all giving,
Regardless of receiving.
Sometimes all I want is to give,
And together I’ve never thought we must be.
Perhaps they’re exaggerated writings,
Perhaps they’re emotional misunderstandings.
There’s something about you,
But I don’t understand what I feel.
Maybe,
I don’t want to be misused,
Or maybe
I’d just like you to remain my muse.