When I first met you, I swore there were meadows in your eyes.

Big, green fields that I got lost in every time I looked in them.

I swore your sleek black hair was silk and it was magic when

I ran my hands through it.

Your scattered freckles popped out on the pale skin that

is your canvas and you lips pressed against mine felt like

rose petals.


When I first met you, you sparkled and shined and made

me feel pure ecstasy.


But as time went on, I saw those fields less and the

feeling of silk was a distant memory to me.

Your canvas began to fade and your

rose petals began to wilt.


My heart and body and soul craved you and

when I got a reminder of your fields and silk,

your canvas sprung back to life and your

petals blossomed like never before.


But eventually, my heart and body and soul

grew tired of not getting the love it needed.

I began to crave you more but to no avail.


Your green fields turned into burned and charred remains.

Your silk felt like barbwire against my hands,

your canvas was stained and

your rose petals died

leaving nothing being but thorns on my lips.


When I first met you, I knew I’d love you.


And I still do.


But ecstasy is a distant feeling and I have crashed.

My flame is out, and you don’t shine to me anymore.

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