There’s a love I have, that I can’t trust.
A lover, a husband, a friend in one.
I am a life destroyer and mimic all my old selves.
I am a lovely mess, and a confessional poet.
I want to be playful with my scars.
I want eyes that see, what others do.
I want hands that knit and touch and love.
I am a soul of old hearts.
I am in love. I am involved. I will evolve.
I need space to spill this venom.
No need to share the filth.
A body. A fever.
I want to walk into the sun. Swallow its light, and burn.