Pillow Talk.

I used to have this fear that I would hear you utter someone elses name in your sleep.
The possibility that you might love another; the graveyards of old girlfriends haunting your dreams.

You always wake me in the night with your ramblings.

Last night I awoke to you stroking my cheek. You said “I love you, Sam,”
I said “I love you too, baby,”
Then you rolled over and went back to sleep.

That’s how I know it’s real.

An automatic phrase at the tip of your tongue,
Nothing to hide or conceal.
No thought behind it, no rehearsed words,
Something that escapes you even in sleep.

You may be asleep, but your love is always awake.
I’ve come to realise that love is a state of being,
Your words reminded me.

They are the best words to wake up to,
Even if you have no recollection of it,
I will dream of those words for the rest of my life.

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i love you.

every time i tell you that i love you,

it unlocks a tsunami wave of emotion i never knew existed.

i choke on the words like i am drowning and i can taste salt in my mouth

from the tears that begin to fall involuntarily from my eyes.

i have never loved somebody and have them love me in return.

when you look deep into my eyes and tell me you love me,

i believe you.

that is what makes me cry.

Beauty and The Beast

I have had boys who devoured me,

ravaged me – wouldn’t even look at me.

I expected you to be the worst,

the most animal among them,

with your ice cold hands

and your ice cold heart.

What used to make me cry

was the memory that you might not be a monster after all,

when I remembered the feeling of your lips pressed softly to my collar bone.

And the gentle strokes of your fingertips on my hips,

How our hands would collide in the middle of the night,

I would fantasise;

You were just the beast in a fairytale

waiting to open your ice cold heart to my warm hands.

I would watch the icicles thaw,

watch you shed your thorns.

Slowly, you would fall in love with me

and give me the happy ending that I was searching for.

Bad Habits

I smoked my first cigarette at thirteen,

I imagine my lungs are black with tar.

 

But by far, the most destructive thing I did,

Was to fall in love with you.

That was wildfire, burning everything I came into contact with,

Turning me into a pile of smouldering ash.

Flames that licked me up and down,

Infesting my thoughts like a million fire ants,

Suddenly, everything was you.


I am better now than I was before, I smoke less than I did,

Now, love is no longer fire to me.

It is water.

It is floating on my back riding a calm ocean wave, hearing the tide lap gently against the shore.

I’m unsure whether I crave the intensity that you brought,

When I’d leave you, shaking and anxious for more.

I love the calmness I have now,

But there is no escaping,

I have always had a taste for

Destruction.

And you were always a bad habit,

I could not shake.