Passion

Late nights, wasted.

The fire in my lungs has been numbed
and I'm far from sober.
I want you
and I don't want to feel anything.
I need Vodka to black me out.
Touch me and I'll trace the dimensions of your face.
I see all the rough edges, there's no use in trying to hide it.

Ravage me.

I don't make promises often,
but when it comes to you,
I do.
Touch me like I do you.
Even when we're sober, nobody has ever touched me or loved me like you do.
I never thought I'd be that girl,
then you came along
and I consumed you,
fading my vision far worse than this bottle
has ever.
I'm far from sober
and I want to go the top of the earth
and scream my love for you,
the passion that overwhelms every nerve in my body deserves to be shared beyond us.

You're the drug I could never stop taking on my own.
The constant fire in my lungs is numbed
and I can't feel my past fucking me up anymore.
Tell me I'm insane,
tell me I'm crazy,
but I'll always be your baby.
I can't explain this, sober or blacked out.
All I know is that I could be with you for forever.
Even at the worst of times,
I can feel your warmth.

I saw the face of death,
it was covered in blackness and feathers, welcoming me with more drinks,
that is also when I saw strength within myself. I was convinced that love was a type of cancer, and it killed me faster
than alcohol ever could.

I wrote my eulogy just in case.

I let that last drink kill me before your love could.