Poetic Relapse.

Old Flames to Ashes.

And your sad eyes stay, with the cause unknown. I want to cuddle you in my arms and keep you safe from harm, but sooner than later have I realized I am not considered home to you.

Throughout these constant nights of mischief and confusion, I find myself linking you to home, though I am just a warm body to you.

I do not mean to be too immature in your presence but I can not help but find bliss and serenity when your eyes smile as bright as your mouth does.

You do not need me, though I feel an attachment like never before when someone utters your name with the slightest of sounds and my ears are blessed as much as my heart is.

This is not love, I am far too young to feel that prick of Cupid's bow. But this is something close, infatuation perhaps that can only lead to the darkest of misery when you say with your caramel voice that I am not what you need, but what you wanted for a short period of time.

And these flames lick much too lightly to stay lit. My embers are slowly extinguishing themselves with the water's flowing from closed eyes in the middle of the night when I realise I am still not home to you.

But my eyes shine so bright when I see you, with your large smile and crows eyes that blink at me from such heights, I am stopped short by the way you say my name, with full lips and crowns on your words. And you call me out on it with that same smile that makes others bloom with contagion and my hands are shaking.

My fingers are entangled in yours like our legs last weekend at two in the morning when you had to work in the morning and I had to leave in the morning and a car passes your window and for a split second, our shadows are splayed across the wall beside us as our breaths rise and fall inside us and I can't help have my hands shake. And you call me out on it with a frown. and I brush it off, not wanting to explain how your presence makes my face hot and my stomach drop and my breaths can't help but get caught in my chest and my hands are still shaking...

The first time you tell me you want me, it isn't in the sentence I want it to be, but I take it anyways..