I Hate That I Miss You.

i hate that i miss you.

i know i shouldn’t,

that you were bad for me

but i cant stop the want of

the feeling of being next to you

from rushing back into my body

like i’m being jolted back alive.

i miss you.

i hate it.

what’s worse is that maybe,

maybe,

i’m not hallucinating the looks you give me.

maybe you think of me, too.

maybe you wish you could

notice more things about me that i never did.

like how i turn my shoulder when

passing someone i don’t want to talk to.

have you noticed i never do it with you?

the fact that our tumblr consists mainly other peoples thoughts that tenderly matches with ours.. aren’t we all a constellation of each other?

i’ll have remorse for the spiders but the ants can burn in hell

your strawberry kisses are peppered across my skin,

and i cant help but think of that night

underneath the stars.

you in my arms,

my eyes toward the sky,

yours toward mine.

in each kiss a seed is embedded

into my body and the

roots grow into my mind.

make me your soil,

make me create something wonderful.

when hozier compared himself to a wild animal saying screaming “do not let me in if you do not want me. i will come back if you feed me, hold me, want me. stop. you do not want this. i can be dangerous, you do not want me.” and then “i’ll be howling outside your door, screaming, scratching, calling to you, for you. don’t you hear me?”

you’re a drug. but not in like the “i’m addicted to you” sense. more like “you make me make bad decisions, stop it.”