You.

Play with my hair,
Run your fingers on my skin,
Down the collar of my shirt.

Make my heart race.
With your soft lips,
your finger nails.

In the dead of the night

When stories really begin,
not at midnight, when people still go about their business,
Enjoying drinks and company,
Not near dawn, when the birds call for the sun to rise,
Banishing the monsters and the unseen.
No, it's in the blank between them,
When one is utterly alone, walking in the streets.
When all the noises are distant, alien,
When everything is still and quiet.
On a facade a lone window is alight,
A party? A romantic evening? A good book?
The air is cold and people huddle together
in the safety and warmth of their homes,
While I walk the night.

Among the clouds

Watching the world far below
Cities like orange spiderwebs,
Shining in an ocean of ink.

On the horizon clouds have amassed,
Castles and Fortresses, high and wide,
They rage war against each other,
Light flashing in the night.

Now the sky is clear,
Stars are innumerable.
An infinite number of jewels
sparkling a universe away.

Far ahead the sky is changing,
Red, Orange, Yellow,
Impossible hues of blue

The sun is approaching,
Conquering the night.
It is only a star among millions,
but here, it rules like a god over them all.

The smell of depression.

Depression has a smell,
cold cigarette and coffee
sweat and sadness.
I watch him walk and talk and I can see him,
grey and blue and green.
I can see the cracks.
I can see the stains.
I am too much of a stranger to tell him,
but I see him and I know.
I may have some sympathy for him.
Depression has a smell and I could never forget it,
This is a smell of the living that is already dead.
They just don't know it yet.
I could never forget this smell.
I wonder what happened to that boy after I left.
I have remorse.

Depression has a smell,
and there is nothing more I can do.

You,

You look like what lives down the abyss of my mind.
And I can't help but stare at you.
I stand on the edge and I can picture myself falling.
You sound like those voices that lurk in my darkness of my mind.
And I can't help but follow you.
I am attracted to your shadow.

Small gestures

Hold my hand,
brush your fingertips against my lips,
put your head on my shoulder
catch me looking at you and smile.

Bite my neck,
bite my lips,
take my hand,
take my breath away.

Write things to make me blush,
not too much,
not too little,
just enough.