you made me into poetry
And I feel like the ink imprinted onto paper Scribed by your rhythmic pen And I feel like Never will I be empty, lonely, unappreciated again I feel like…. Beauty, if she were a Goddess. Song, if she were an apparition Like some lyric laced over the hottest dance track And I have to tell you it’s taking me back to indecision My former resolve to not fall for you is slowly slippin Man I’m trippin And as I remember you breathing insanity back into me Full on resuscitation of my soul Mouth to– well. Lips. See? You’re making my brakes slip I really am trying to have fun And let these moments live And let whatever naturally unfolds between us In its own sweet time unwind.. But you’re making me weak My former resolve needs re-tweaking Or maybe I just have to stop speaking to you and run away Because the funny thing is? It’s nothing you do to my body. — Don’t get me twisted, if your fingers were the military I’d be enlisted. What I mean is… You remind me of how beautiful I am Of all the things I have done and can do still In a way that I don’t forget after you’re gone Or even if you never came back And The way you touch me when we’re supposed to be asleep The kisses you affix betwixt the bliss of moments play, making my heart beat miss steadiness The readiness you maintain to rescue