Love’s a potion,
sip it and I spin around.
I send a hundred texts,
watch the ticks resound.
Each ignored vibration
cuts a deeper slice,
in your silence,
my heart’s enticed.
I want to burrow
into the cave of your ribs,
live in the beats,
where no one else intrudes or fibs.
I don’t just date, I consume every part,
you’re the feast,
and I’m starving from the start.
Love makes me drunk,
so high, so low,
swinging from your words,
nowhere else to go.
In your eyes, a home,
in your absence, a void,
I’m spun by affection,
easily destroyed.
I trace your shadows on my wall at night,
rehearsing smiles,
preparing for the light.
But morning finds me cold, alone and bare,
each tick of silence–
unbearable despair.
I need to be your echo,
your heartbeat’s cling,
but I scare myself
with the neediness I bring.
This isn’t love,
it’s a hunger unexplained,
a need so raw,
a heart unrestrained.
If love is a drink, let mine overflow,
but teach me to sip,
not drown in its flow.
For in this intoxication,
I lose all I’ve known,
in the silence, in the chaos,
where my fears are grown.