Choking on my own key strokes,
I can feel you lingering between
every stanza as the memory
of you washes over me.
Where do you think you're going with my heart?
I thought I'd successfully disposed of this seasick feeling.
You've got me oscilatting like a pendelum
as I sway between denial and a tarnished need.
But you're more than...more than.
The mellifluous tone of your voice
—like vapor—finds it's way into
the caverns of my mind.
So maybe I'm stuck in a world of
scarlet gowns and second chances,
but your midnight confessions
leave me catching the breath that rattles in my chest.
Oh, and these ink stained pages will tell me otherwise.
But I'll dig my feet into this upward slope
until the panicked fingers of uncertainty release their grip.
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