Oh dear god.
What are you doing to me?
What are you doing to my battered, worn out self
With the oceans of love you reserved in the trenches of your heart
All these years?
The world has fallen away again.
And my mind is spiraling out of control
What are you doing to me with your hands,
That is creating earthquakes down my spine and tearing apart
My fragile soul?
Where have all the noise gone?
Where are the voices of the demons in my head?
How are your lips against mine, numbing all of my senses to the point
Where you have consumed me completely
And there is nothing else?
It is in this moment,
That reality becomes a dream,
And all the seemingly exaggerated lines in romance novels
Suddenly doesn't sound exaggerated at all.
Because yes,
You make me forget how to breath,
And yes,
Your touch burns me,
And yes,
I will always keep asking this,
Because I used to believe love was a myth.
What are you doing to me?
For I have fallen
In love
With
You.
— S.M.
YOU ARE READING
Acedia
Poetry[ A c e d i a : ennui ; state of torpor or listlessness ; spiritual apathy ] Poetry attempts / Random thoughts / Musings (P.S. I'm not very good at this, don't expect too much. Thanks)
