Untitled #3

Is that how it starts? 

You become infatuated to the feelings that come from their affection, affection not promised to make it the next day, affection that burns the skin and stains the mind, and poisons the thoughts. 

I can’t breathe against the suffocating things I refuse to say to you. There’s nothing to get rid of it, rather than say it with the lines on my skin, with the metal I’m more comfortable with. The one who can take away the anger, and wash away the tears under the stream of water. 

And still I smile, with real meaning, when I see you look my way. Still I take your words to heart, and hold a meaning to what’s whispered against my skin in the dark away from them. Still I feel the fire under flesh when your hands are on me, and hold me and wrap around me.