solipsistic drivelings.

You are the fount of my depression,

half in love with my distress,

engulfed by my fraught desires.

Mon seul desir.

Your blandishments, I crave for.

Personal tumults,

unguarded sensibilities.

My happiness, my destruction.

You crumbled the facade I built for years.

My one and only.

You are utopia.


After all these years, I still see you in my dreams. When are you gonna stop haunting me?

And I don't wanna ever wake up each time..

My thoughts directed at you. The intensity, can you feel it? Can you feel me?

And every neuron in my brain, recognizes that face, those tendrils of dark hair.

You are utopia. I wish to dwell in you. The abode my heart is yearning for. Right inside I am, so that we are always together no matter the distance.

This is what I do because this is what I can not not do.

You are the addiction-- the nicotine residing in my veins.

I am hooked. A few more drags, I can't help it.

A few more drags and I'll be done with you. Or am I really?

Please.
Don't.
Stop.

Please, don't stop.

I embrace your love along with the aches it had caused, amidst the doubts casted. But, no, you never lied to me.

Amidst the demons and the heartaches, the longings, the horrible truths, ensconced with the lies, the others, the promises of ecstasy, the failures to keep up, the atempts to stop the hurt, the desperate longing to get out, to get over, to try to find new love, and fail to do so, the others treated as chattel, i regret. The desperation that was me.

But amidst all that, nothing. Nothing at all came to fruition.

Because as long as the world exists, so does love, the real one-- torturous, yes, but true and unwavering, and hopeful and happiness and infinite-- and so does me and you.

You beckoning me.

I surrender.

I'm coming back home.

You and me.

You are me.