there's so many times when i tell myself i need to write.
write about the things you do to me.
but how do i take the time to write all of out
when my thoughts sizzle to the surface and,
like a volcano,
those thoughts explode into the universe that is my mind
and i struggle to grasp one,
just one because there are dozens of black holes sucking my
limbs, energy and focus into them because they demand my
that's how you make me feel.
you're the black hole that sucks me in
because i have no choice but to be utterly drawn to you.
baby, you're my bad habit;
you're the lyrics in my favorite songs,
the way people our age are addicted to the thrills
of dangerous things.
things that make their heart race, things their parents hate them for.
but like them, i don't care.
i don't care about the pending pain that is yet to come
because right now in this moment we're good.
but how long will it last?
because like those volcanic thoughts, the good is bound
to erupt, but no one knows when.
it could be today, it could be tomorrow, hell it could be this very second.
our volcano could lose itself and erupt pain,
things it doesn't mean.
3 a.m and we're fine.
we're laughing and holding one another but here comes 3:01 and we're bad.
baby, we're yelling and screaming and dishes are breaking
and we're holding each other but in a different way.
your hands are around my neck and i'm scratching at your lungs
anyway i can to hurt you the way you've been hurting me.
but now we're dying for each other in a way we've been trying to avoid.
now instead of marks, bruises and scratches
i have lip prints, love marks and lust coating my body.
how we do this so often.
this god damned cycle.
now i look into those damn eyes, those ocean blue, california eyes
and i wonder, oh how i wonder.
it's now 4 a.m and i wonder,
when will our next eruption be?

{ a.j.k }