Pawns of the King & Queen

A Writer's Soul

I can’t tell what I feel for you, infatuation or devotion, lust or love,
But the affects feel the same, and I’m left tongue tied and flustered,
A friendship left to define itself within the boundaries.
But these thoughts are so loud, screaming at me to define what this means to us, what this is.
We went down this road before, thinking we could change each other,
And all we got were biting kisses, bruised lips, torn skin; two damaged hearts that clung together as they drowned.
So I guess all that’s left is to hang onto every work spoken, clinging to what is open to interpretation.
When I’m sober these thoughts rack my brain, stealing my breath and fluttering the butterflies, but, the more I drink the more, those feelings aren’t as strong,
So maybe I’m a safer drunk than I realize,
Or maybe the affection I have for…

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