It's 3AM, Why am I writing Poetry while thinking about You?Mature

I know someone who could quite possibly be the living embodiment of perfection. This is the first not depressing thing I've posted wow go me.

I want to taste the dust of your words against my mouth at 3 AM
a feeling more addicting than caffeine and nicotine before the sun rises
I want your scent mingled with mine lingering on sheets and old couches instead of our sweater sleeves
I want to kiss the pen ink off your fingertips and when I lie awake staring at the ceiling I want to turn and feel your soul beside mine
I'm incredibly selfish, god knows that, 
but I don't care, I want you all to myself.
Every scar and fold in your skin, every word embedded in your memory,
every broken glass piece.
Your eyes aren't as bright as the starts, but I've been afraid of the dark since I was born and they're better than burning planets anyway. 
They're the warm space in which I find home. 
If I could tell you every perfect thing about you, I would try,
but I forget sentences before I even acquire the breath to say them, 
so I'm afraid i would fail you in the department of beautifully constructed sentences. 
My words have always sounded better from my fingertips anyway.
I wish I could paint your mirrors with how i see you,
but my hands often shake and your radiance is a glow inside you that is hard to depict.
I've never been one to stick around this long,
I guess you haven't either,
I just get so afraid you see,
I push people far away, fast and hard, 
but here i am and I never want to leave your side.
You compliment me in the best ways possible, 
you make the darkest cracks in my soul glow, you are the flame that has caught me and i never want you to go out, this world fucking sucks, but it'd suck more without you, and when I'm with you, even the deepest pits in my stomach, are hot embers.
You're perfection in my eyes, and I promise you, that will not change. 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed