I found love in flesh,
Curled up on my bed holding the darkest moment of 4 a.m., exhaling the seconds that I wish I spent with him.
I found love in definition.
He buried his every synonym in my skin,
And maybe in a year or so,
I won’t know how to speak this language anymore.
I found love in cigarette lungs and whiskey tongues,
In barely started stories, and bitterly ended poems.
Its promises of “one day” never came.
I found love in ghosts and missed eyes.
In words that held too many or no definitions.
Hold me the way you hold onto these dark words, that amble around the inside of your skull.
Hold me like I’m pain, and you’re a masochist.