She is the Blister that i love

I'm just a poet, theirs no denying it. The verses come to me and spill from my brain. Drooling these words onto the page. I close my eyes and see her detained. It's more than my understanding can battle to explain. Even in my sleep I can't find rest. I don't understand and like always, im ready to object. I don't need a mirror to see what my heart reflects. Theirs no majesty in this. King of a proud, uncertain, broken couch throne. Im only skin, flesh muscle and bone. I think of me, I think of you. What is all of this. Your beautiful, strange things distract and attract me. I like you, who are you. Am I the shadow, the silhouette, the thorn in your side? Ill show you all of me, theirs no shame in what I don't hide.

Seem like late nights

But it really doesn't matter much anymore

The clock is racing

With no determined deadline

For some reason,

I couldn't care less

At this point

I can't get your face out of my mind

Steam rises off of the this thick black coffee,

As I poor it over ice

Keeping myself awake

Wondering how you taste

Keeping away from myself

In the presence of surreal moments

By your pierced flesh

Touching your face,

Did it really happen?

You're truly different

Confusion falls into this fascination

You decorate yourself

To flip the inside out

Won't you teach me

So keenly

Whatever it is you've been trying to talk about

Are you really so mesmerizing?

Or is it only my imagination playing tricks on me again

I only want to hear your voice

To calm all of my screams of distaste

Right now I could ask myself

Who I am

Who you are

You're too...

Beautiful

You're not real

I can't wait to talk to you