Catting for her

(Note: catting is London slang for needing something you’re addicted to)

Standing on the verge of infatuation

Like nicotine, I’m catting for her

Delicate expressions piercing enough to engrave in my psyche

The scent of my burning candle remains

Long after the wick’s time runs short

She lingers in my mind the same way.

Not far from making a bold statement

Im too impatient for the slow burn that follows subtlety

And too far gone with hoping she’s braver than I.

Fuck that I’m sobering up.

Paying out the crack for black roses

Gather the wax for a tougher candle

Entangle myself in her allure

My desire on display like couture.

Feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/vx8iml/union/ifukvlc/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/vx4rup/my_unfeeling_ghost/ifun5fn/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=3