I’m down to my last wish,
waiting for my ship to come in,
walking back and forth by the loch with the thought of you locked inside of my lips,
your name pressing against my pout,
and my mind, slipping, spilling out as I send another text that I shouldn’t.
You look over your shoulder,
cool, warrior queen,
surrounding my sanity with a subtle smile,
I am furiously fixing my hair,
layering my lips in gloss and losing what’s left of my dignity, because I’m so desperate to impress (despite your own understated aesthetic).
Make me a midsummer night’s dream,
mark out your dark intentions in soft, sweet kisses in the twilight spotlight of this Winter night that seems to last a lifetime.
I am the ghost of heaven,
a home for hollowed out hearts that need to be whole again.
I will love you with reckless, rapturous abandon,
and you will destroy me.
It’s okay if you want to stay,
just don’t go after I’ve gone mad over you.