He Loves Me, I Love Him Not

One. I love and hate the way your dark eyes see into me, through me.

Two. The way your lips crack open like splitting branches, spilling sunlight.

Three. Run your hands gently through my hair, send every thought to rest.

Four. Smoothest skin, every curve, angle, shape to your figure.

Five. You know me. You know me so well you can fix me when I fall apart.

Six. Every word you speak is poetry, every sentence strung a melody.

Seven. So small, delicate—I’ll hold you, be your home, protector.

Eight. Shining so bright, I need the world to see you.

Nine. Vines intertwined; we only go up as one.

Ten. You are my oxygen. I need you to know

I love you

Don’t

Ten. You are my poison. I need you to know

Nine. Strangling, choking, can’t go on.

Eight. You taught me to be nothing, without you.

Seven. Claustrophobia. Can’t breathe, everything heavier.

Six. Teach a caged bird words; you’ll find it still sings beautifully.

Five. I know you; take a deep breath, you grab my neck—I hear my heart.

Four. Firm hands clawing over my body. Shrink back; you move closer.

Three. Grab my hair to hold my head—force me to shy away less.

Two. Close my eyes as I feel you kiss me, hold me tight.

One. I love and hate how your pondering eyes travel over my body.