Your eyes are my desert, drawing me in with a fata morgana of love and admiration, only to trap me, thirsty for more, in your harsh environment, luring me further and further with something that disappears as soon as I get close to it.
Your smile is my drug, raising my heartrate with every appearance, only to teach me that not every high is good, teaching me the hard way that not every smile comes from joy, from love, succesfully showing me what a bad trip feels like.
Your scent is like that of your favourite food, leaving you feeling familiar and hungry for the taste, yet when I'm hungover after a long day of drinking the pain away you inflicted, can make you feel nauseous and scared of eating.
Your hands are like a warm blanket on a cold winternight, holding me tight and sheltering me from the cold, protecting me from the freezing cold of loneliness, that is if you don't take them off of me and leave me standing in the cold, ever so alone.
Your love is like air, showing me how much I need it by giving it to me, and then taking it away while you watch me choke.
You are like my god, deciding wether I live or die, breathe or choke, laugh or cry.
You'd rather tattoo a smile on my face than give me your hand and help me overcome my sadness.
You'd rather draw my breath than to listen to my problems.
You are the poison I want to kill myself with.
You are my ending, either way.
It'll take a while to find the lethal dose, but I know I'm getting close.
Just a few more times of breaking into a thousand pieces before it's all over.
Then I can finally take the leap.
It'll all be over soon.
Just a bit more.
YOU ARE READING
Between summer days and thunderstorms
PoetryThese are poems, it's not a book! These short ones come from the dephts of my heart, and reflect what I go through. Some days are harder than others, as they are for any of us. I use my fantasy to write about it, and numb the pain a bit. I hope you...
