1-17-15 fifty six days clean (I can't believe it's been eight weeks though like whhaaat)

I start to feel sexy while the lights go off,
You used to be the creator of these thoughts.
My eyes shade themselves in,
I can't believe I'm rolling back to this sin.
The grunge inside my head when I think of you
Tempts me to do what we both know I want to do.

Your skin tastes like an apocalypse
Baby, please don't listen when I whisper this,
But I want you to stay,
I need you.
I wouldn't want this any other way,
But I'm afraid I love you.
Promise me we'll awake with sweet kisses,
A faint memory of tonight's lustful wishes.
- (m.m)