He loves me, He loves me not.

He loves me.
He loves me not.
He hit me.
He begged me.
Black eye.
New Bracelet.
Swollen lip.
New ride.
Threats.
Promises.
Blood.
Kisses.
He loves me.
He loves me. Not...

Come...

Come. Come disrupt this world of earrings matched to shoes, of color coded files, measured spoons and ruled lines. Come bringing with you chaos, unbalance and untested theory.

Come like water, rejuvenating this throat parched with sense and sensibility. Come like star dust, sprinkling madness; signalling the return of a normalcy that never was.

Come be my tree that grows crooked, my car that speeds past the limits, my rich decadent indulgence. Come feel this heart beating, this soul aching to be freed of the accepted and expected.

Come be my Picasso, painting with unconventional brush strokes and irrational paint splatter. Paint rage, paint desire, paint animalistic, paint soft.

Come, and this time I promise to not seek immediate definition. Come and this time I will let heart roll out of tongue without pre-thought or post-fear.

Come like rain, quenching this burning; this desire so counterintuitive yet as natural as dessert sand. Come and grease this mechanical heart.

Come like hunger,
Come like fire,
Come, and

...stay...