tender vinaigrette

sweet poison

the flavor of his lips drag me toward the sin his
mouth is: I'm addicted to him, to his poison, a bittersweet liquid I'm willing to taste in my mouth to feel euphoric. it's a curse. I'm in love with my doom, maybe in love with some idea of how the feeling is and the way it should be felt. my heart aching every time i don't feel his touch, causing me pain by leaving: that's not love. he can make rivers stroll down my cheeks, storms and lightning in my head, grieve and sorrow in my heart: that's not love.

but he is also my salvation. the constellations in his cheeks, the cosmos in his eyes, how his warm hands find unconsciously their way up to my hips, all his god-like qualities. after a while, he tastes like cotton skies: baby blue backgrounds and pale pink clouds, with no ending: a forever-going canvas painted with soft brush strokes and tenderness. his eyes, sun-kissed ambers that bring me peace. his voice, a sonorous melody I am willing to hear forever.

I don't know if someone can be your doom and your salvation at the same time: if they can bring you pain and happiness. I don't know if poison can be sweet, but oh my god, what a punishment it is to not taste his lips.

—
thank you to @monacchopsis for letting me put this amazing poem we wrote together in my book! love you sis, I could never even consider myself a writer if it wasn't for you