you make my need to explode overpower my need to implode.

I fall victim to this need.
is this treason?





Do you remember that one time I took a Sharpie while you were half-sleeping on my bed, and right underneath your belly button, I wrote "MINE" with an arrow pointing downward?
You opened your eyes, looked down to read it and laughed before catching my eyes and murmuring, "Okay."
I smiled back and told myself that it may not necessarily be a good thing. I think you knew that already, though, so I said nothing and tossed the Sharpie on my desk before crawling over the length of your body as I grinned, almost frightened by the emotions I felt as I watched you close your eyes and lean back, a lazy smile on your face. I kissed your chin, you nose, and the space between your eyes before putting my head on your chest and pressing my body close, lying on top of you. Your arms enclose me, and I think we sighed together as we relaxed, ready to fall asleep but knowing that we never would.


I once taught myself what worth was.
This implies that I once knew.
(Yet
so often the mind wakes and unravels at once, losing beats and phrases, leaving the body and consciousness to falter with what's left--
halves of emotions and the empty memory of having once been satiated--
leaving the rest of me to fall under the weight of my own palm.
So often the mind works like a swelling tide against the direction of what one desires.)
But now
I feel as though I've left myself: my better half has decided that I no longer deserve attention. I'm worthless.