Reluctant.

I don’t want to write Or sing or read Don’t want to create Yet another piece or poetry. Not one of love Or lust or affection Not while I crave Your undivided attention. I don’t want to feel Or long for or need Temporary moment of comfort A blessing and a curse indeed. A.

Addiction.

Roses are red And violets often appear to be blue Totally unrelated but, I'm a slave to my addiction And that addiction is you. A.

You.

You are my 3am thoughts, My midnight fantasies, 6pm concerns, And the reason for my stomach knots. In your departure, I await your return, not because of lust or comfortability, But pure amicability. You are my Saturday night live, My Sunday’s rest, And my incentive to thrive. The reason I feel blessed, Motivated, Assertive, Worth …

Today. 

This wasn't like every other day The silence sounded different Like a knife piercing through these eardrums It burns because for the first time in years There's something selfless for me to say Me to convey Me to show Me. This wasn't like every other day The empty space felt different And these sheets, so …