Consumption


Your kisses are like fresh dewdrops upon the petals
of a spring tulip
on an early May morning.
My corrupted conscience harbours little understanding
of the scenario that plays itself out before us.
As I shy away from your touch, your voice latches onto a nook
within my heart, gently pulling at my fragile soul,
begging me not to leave.
My turbulent mind has found a steady plain upon which it may rest.
My weary head is in dire need of company
and my malicious thoughts are growing exceedingly loud.
There are holes within the constraints of my mind
and as my guilty conscience seeps through,
it consumes my entire existence.
As my breaths become shallow,
my heart aches for
something real.

Something true.

Something that gives me a reason to stay.

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