Poetic Relapse.

Death, until Midnight

And if I am to die, before my time, it shall be with sweaty palms and drunk drives, or empty pill bottles, tequila and lime. These nights get so rough when you're nothing but a bunch of muddled thoughts at night when I can smell you on my shirt, and I can feel the imprints that you left that don't hurt, but they still burn, with a sharpened desire that fills me with unshed tears because I have to go home at night when there still is and always will be five years between you and I being able to lay in a bed at night with cars outside that honk their horns with such fervour that I pray I can one day scream as loud, and stop lying.

Your fingertips are imprinted on the tops of my thighs when my breaths don't fully expand in my lungs and I, can't help but wait for these moments where I am so breathless that I feel faint, but these occurrences are so mild and quaint, that even the largest of saints can't halt these thoughts of us in your bed, trying to be quiet with bed head and small laughs that break the silences between our grasped hands and squished sheets and we climb under them and attempt to sleep, even though we know in an hours time, we'll be giggling about the need for cheese and wine.

But then this dream is shattered in the morning, when you don't reply to my texts and all I can think of is kisses on necks and hands in my own and the fact that you left me to fend all alone and it's fucked. 

Sweet boy, you're blushing, your giggle is cute, the word Dulcinea suits you, fuck you and your kind words that make my head soar when your arms on my waist are asking for more and I can't help but melt into your embrace and let my heart race when you spontaneously lay these lips laid upon me and I'm laid upon your bed, I could be at home but instead I lie and stay by your side, where I wish I could, but sneak around we must when my mother and father have zero trust, let's pray that only my sister knows about us.

Kiss me at midnight, so even if my day is all but good, at least the first moment of the day was spent in deep infatuation.