On wanting to feel

I like the fact that our breathing isn't synchronised.

That our hearts don't beat at the same time

Because that way, there is no silence between us. Every moment is filled with you. Or I.

And always, you and I.

I like that you keep my body warm enough for my mind to be at ease. And it wanders, far and wide, and I like that you give it the time to let it return to you.

Because it always does.

I'm waiting on the day it doesn't.

Maybe then I will know why I'm still waiting here, waiting for something to happen.

There is a passionate familiarity I can't leave. I can't, I don't. I don't know.

I want to fall as hard as I possibly can. I want to fall in us, you know?

Like the instant my body touches hard ground, it will shift and transform into the galaxy that I have been waiting so desperately to want.

The universe that we built, unknowingly. Where every collective thought, where every movement of our bodies, every spark of fire that passed between us gives birth to a new star.

I'm waiting on the day when my ghost that haunts you or is the other way round

Either way I'm waiting on the day

When that ghost takes possession of me. When it crawls under my skin and calls the hollow inside my bones the home it was searching for all this while.

I'm tired of being a halfway house for hauntings

I'm tired of being soft whispers across straining floorboards, mild scratches on a frozen window, what do you call it when even your ghost feels dead?

Come, Come on.

Make me believe that the only thing that's holy is the sound of your name crawling its way out from the inside of me

Tell me the only way to gain time is to match the fire of your eyes

Be the shelter for my wayward limbs. Come on.

Haunt me.