This is as close to a romantic poem as I'll probably ever get, this is directed at someone who will probably never see it.I'm sorry if this doesn't make much sense, but what I think about them doesn't make much sense to me, either.

Fell in love with intention,

Once infatuated with affection,


there was nothing but a 


of a name and the


of bones on the carpet.


drop acid on the floor 

so you crawl on the wall,


He is an old school soul with bass in his veins.


Fell in love with intention,

infatuated with affection,


now there is something past the


of a name in the dark and the 


of a body as it tries to relax(relapse)


feel the bite, feel the beat,

feel them gnash at your feet,



underbelly and soft soft something


Fell in love with conversation,

Still infatuated with the sea, 


He is the moon

and I

The restless tide.

The End

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