Red on my lips, staining your soul white shirt, my possessive kiss, that becomes shy as the night goes by. I am fascinated by the denim of your dungarees, a dangerous demon lives within me, and she sees your blue eyes, colliding with me, as the bathroom spins, I sink more drinks, I want you…

I’m a daydream believer, and a homecoming Queen, packed up in the same box, with lots of other tropes and troubles, waiting to be unwrapped, by hands that seek me, and know how to heal me. If I may be so bold as to ask, do you feel me? Do you need me? Could I…

Apparently, I worry too much. I mean, It’s only my emotional well-being on the line, when I’m lying in bed wondering what the fuck he’s thinking, so why worry at all, right? I don’t take rejection well, but how long into a thing does rejection become something more, because we are something more? My cards…

Our last kiss left me in flames, your fingertips remain on my mind, scorched onto my skin, my heart is cheerful char, and I fly, all the way home, across the orange sky.