Brown Eyes

I never anticipated being the type of person who would cry so effortlessly at something so beautiful.

When my vision catches a glimpse of your tenacious smile and my entire being collapses into a blood pumping frenzy. 

I mimic a fetus resting inside a hot womb, hunched over my own waist, clutching rolls of skin for dear life, like a salaryman with a briefcase full of vital documents riding a crammed subway car.

I am physically tormented by my affections.

I watch helplessly as the refined warmth of your brown eyes travel across the pitted graveyard of acne scars dotted along my cheeks, or as the subtle movements of your fingertips pass through my carnal limits like ensnared ghosts not yet ready to move on.

I am afraid you may be haunting my consciousness.

I do not want an exorcism in any case.

The billions of fibers that compose of the basket of my soul, vibrate with exhilaration as you wedge yourself nearer to my boundaries and past.

Death becomes me so lovingly.

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