madam mayhem

And, god,

When was I not in love?

With the sun,

With the trees,

With the flowers.

When was I not enamored?

With the moon,

The stars,

The seasons,

The boy up the street.

When was I not dreaming?

About her lips,

the shape of them when she says my name,

About the feel of the ocean salt,

licking its way down my spine,

About the caress of overgrown grass,

tickling my cheek,

About the rain on my face,

peppering my skin with gentle kisses.

Oh, god,

I want to rake my nails down the back of this life,

To grind my hips into the sunrise and scream into the night,

Relishing in the sheer pleasure of being alive.

When did I first fall in love?

When did I take my first breath?

I fell in love

With being in love.

The ones I avoid subconsciously and the ones that make me feel nauseous by the end.

If my mother was as healthy as she pretends she is- or as I always told everyone she was-

None of us do.