I’m losing sleep over this shit.
Spend the whole night dreaming.
Lying awake in the sheets
wondering what it would be like
with you here between them.
I’m caving in.
Heart and mind so connected
I explode
and implode
into my own black hole
full of galaxies
and starlight.
I’m sipping on you like red wine.
Like Sunday morning,
when all this beauty
would seep into the sheets
and I could see you
when it’s only me looking.
I am thinking about you naked.
Thinking about kissing you
– guess I could
but I’m scared
of losing what’s already there.
at the end of the day
I just want to be with you.
Preferably mentally, physically
and metaphorically speaking
but literally’s enough,
literally just there
at a table
drinking cocktails with you.
Telling you stories.
Making you laugh.
Literally just there
but I’m lucid dreaming I swear
– I don’t wanna wake up.
And I don’t.
And if I wrote you
a love poem
I would hold it
like a last chance,
like a breaking promise,
like a jumped gun,
like you are a pair
of feather wings
and I am flying
too close
to the sun.

a guy who kisses me like he never wants to stop, who twirls my hair around his finger and looks at me like I’m the only girl in his world. a guy who traces every inch of my body with a touch so light that I never have to worry about a thing, just close my eyes and get lost in the feeling. a guy whose eyes I get lost in, whose hands fit perfectly in mine, whose words glue a permanent smile on my face.

that’s a guy who I know I can fall in love with, who I’m falling for more and more every day, who makes my world light up with joy and wanting and makes it complete.

a guy who is all mine, and who I have no intention of letting go.

—  about a guy // a.k.
One day, one rhyme- Day 972 'Pyronos'

All things burn bright on Pyronos
Or the planet of fire.
The mountains, flatlands and valleys
Each town, village and shire.
The rivers are most curious,
They with hot lava flow
To seek to put them out would be
Impossible, you know.
The fiery people have fire pets,
The farmers flaming fields
Abound with blazing crops they’ve sown
And reaped are flaming yields.
They drink fire, shower under flames
Their burning grass they mow,
But if they have birthday candles
Is one thing I don’t know…

“Bargain” 8/29/16

When it comes to poetry, I’m starving,
Obsessed, in hopes for “just another eight lines”;
Because my heart beat’s with words, so can I bargain,
My dreams to stay within these mental confines?;/

Reminders how the potion, can also be a malignant source,
Although relief for the addictions plight, but then slowly creeps;
Your consciousness into a daze, you lose any remorse,
And actions after this moment, remain only for my notebooks to keep;/

~Roman Empyre

She had a crimson tongue
the last time her
space heater lips
found mine.

How was I to know
that she’d been choking down
cheap cherry cough drops
ever since our paths crossed?

Infected with something
no doctor knew of
and passing it on

Before I knew it,
I was lovesick and
she was in