i love you i love every breath you take i love every sound that escapes your lips as i kiss that spot between your jaw and neck i love the way your hands touch my skin, no rush, nothing to prove, nothing but pure love braiding itself within my heart and reassuring my mind i love the way your voice sounds in the morning when sleep is thick in your throat and your eyes are heavy

i
     love
              you
please
     please
              stay

Shall I paint you a picture?
With my pen and paper I may yet sing you a song,
With these scrolls I scribe, away to see my each and every perspective, prospective to today's little happenings,
blissfully ignorant to what happened just a few seconds ago.

You see,
My words are the arts,
You paint with your heart.

There’s something in the way he holds me.  It’s an inescapable void.
Me the weary traveler, he the siren.  I cannot turn away from his song.


There’s something in the way he falls short.  It’s a story, far too often read.
An ongoing battle, waged in my soul.  Labored, my psyche falls casualty.


There’s something in him I cannot tarnish.  It can’t be scrubbed from existence.  
A type of purity, only seen through my eyes.  Alluring, it defies my ethics.  



There’s something about him.  His grasp, his clutch…my running…it grows tiring.
Whispered prayers are all I have left…I see myself falling: I see my death.


I see the cycle
commence again.