i sit in bed, thinking about you
memories on my tongue, sweet vanilla, cocaine to the mind
the problem is that memories are addicting
day in and day out, i get high off of memories
you in my arms, your warmth on my skin; it's like i've stuck my hand in an electrical socket, and every single hair i solely possess stands at attention, tiny soldiers standing straight at attention
your voice, sonorous and satisfactory, echoes through my mind and i smile, that's right, I smile right then and there, i smile to myself in the dark of my room with the oil rain pounding down around me and outside, but that rain is coating not only everything outside, it's coating everything inside as well, that black oil rain, saturated with unwanted feelings and affections, thoughts of lust and luxurious nights out, candy kisses and keeping secrets, whispered sweet nothings.
and i am standing with an umbrella, dodging those deadly drops.
because what if i loved you
and
you
didn't
love
me
back.
YOU ARE READING
Words are Weapons
Poetry• • • • A collection of my poetry. Poems may reflect current events or what I believe strongly in, as well as past experiences. Happy reading!
