#jun;post

too late, however, i find myself being plagued by a specific brand of kryptonite, as she's lethal in her own right, in which she has all rights to my misery.

it's her eyes, mostly; unsettling things they are, a mix of jade and the darkest onyx -- near opaque orbs that train themselves on my face causing the frenzy, the very one that leaves me sick: o, i have to have her.

fear; an emotion i know all too well, and most days, i welcome it -- a motivator of sorts, though this type of mantra isn't a part of my agenda. it also seems as if daily life is nothing more than a reminder of her ivory skin, of cerise plush lips, of the happiness she exudes; a happiness that i can neither emulate or duplicate.

but, how to convey my feelings in the boldest of ways? my thoughts plague me, and the sleep that i so desperately crave, eludes me so easily. what confidence do i have to accurately portray her presence in my life: for she is the sight that could begin the end all

perhaps

she was the be all

perhaps