transparent people

philophobia

as our lips touch I have to force myself to think of you as the bad guy
you've never done anything wrong; this I know,
but it's almost as if it's an instinct.
I close my eyes and picture what our future must look like.
broken liquor bottles and bruised arms.
love is wrong
love is bad
love is hate.
love is 2 am fights over a misunderstood text.
love is pushing her against the wall and screaming until your lungs give out.
It's fighting, it's pain, it's awful.
so as we kiss, I force myself to believe that I do not love you.
because loving means falling, and I'm afraid of heights.