Gh0stGurl84

a rush straight to the head,

a beautiful, dangerous fiction

blurring every line he ever read.

​One touch is a phantom spark,

a fast high that leaves me blind,

chasing shadows through the dark

just to lose my fractured mind.

​It’s a craving in the bone,

a fever that I cannot tame,

left entirely alone,

whispering a stolen name.

​A gorgeous wreck, a final drop,

a toxic, blinding, perfect high—

a cycle that will never stop,

a sharp, familiar sting,

a slow burn on the lips

that leaves me wanting everything.

​Then comes the fire,

rolling deep within the chest,

a tender, aching friction

that refuses any rest.

​A hand along the spine,

a breath against the neck,

we sink into the suffocation

of this gorgeous, heavy wreck.

​We chase the fading spark

down to the very final drop,

undone by a slow-burning ache

​Our intimacy is exactly that—a tender, aching friction. It’s the way a hand moves along a spine, the way a breath hitches against a neck, leaving a trail of heat under the skin long after the touch has passed. It catches inside the chest, heavy and consuming, a gorgeous wreck of a feeling where the closeness completely suffocates the cold.

The thoughts they hold inside,

And spill their dark intrusive thoughts

They always had to hide.

For in my eyes a mirror stand

Unyielding, black and deep-

The keeper of the quiet words they only dare to wake.

An anchor in the wreckage where the wild impulses roam,

a map of scars, theft and dust which my walls have made.

they may leave feeling relieve their burdens light completely safe and free,

The keeper of the quiet words they only dare to wake.

An anchor in the wreckage where the wild impulses roam,

A garden where the shadows bloom,

Where I, the rose, stand all alone

To weave the light within the gloom.

I carry ghosts like heavy pearls,

The weight of souls who drift too near,

In every tide that softly swirls,

Their whispered love, their lingering fear.

My brother’s mind, a jagged map,

A distance drawn for safety’s breath,

I fear the closing of the trap,

The reach of love, the dance of death.

They see the iron in my spine,

The armor forged in fire and fate,

Forgetting that this heart of mine

Was carved by hands of cruel weight.

They strip away the delicate vein,

The woman soft, the rose in bloom,

They do not see the gentle rain

That hides beneath my inner doom.

Yet I am every breath of air,

The raging storm, the quiet sea,

A fractured beauty, scarred and bare,

Two shadows bound by oath and edge.

You steal the breath right from my chest,

A welcomed thief, a lawless guest.

​So let the ruins catch the flame,

While silent nights repeat your name.

For in the wreck of what you broke,

The phantom touch upon my lip.

You are my heaven in the dark—

and breathless with you.

Then break against the shore.

You stepped into my hollow chest

And locked the heavy door.

​So let the willow split the stone,

And let the shadows stay.

I’d rather be possessed by you

The streetlights freeze the night.

You are the phantom in the dark

I prefer to any light.

​Sink your roots into my dust,

And take what you can steal.

For only in your heavy shadow

the streetlights paint the stone.

You are the shadow in my room,

the sweetest ghost I’ve known.

Let the heavy roots sink deep,

and wrap around the chest.

Of all the things that haunt the night,

and called the hollows home,

a beautiful, trespasser’s theft,

carving a sanctuary out of shattered bone.

You whisper a name in the midnight oil,

where the dark water licks the stone,

and every shadow wears your face—