Yearning is the best kind of love.
Fantasy, theory, mystery
That sickening feeling when you imagine a touch
A kiss, an embrace.
Don’t touch me. Please, please do.
My heart drops and throws my throat into seizure
Don’t kiss me, please.
My hand pressed against your chest,
I’ll push you away.
But I’ll remember the texture of your shirt
The give of your body.
My love comes easily
And bleeds out from under my fingernails.
Don’t you hear us?
We’re drunk, we’re idiots
We’re rambling to the stars
We know, they don’t give a damn.
Oh, god. I’m drowning.