Subconscious
I keep dreaming of you and all your damn tattoos and in it you grab my hand and throw me up against a wall
maybe we are in that same bathroom stall.
You taste sickly sweet like curdled yeast so I lick your hooded sweatshirt and inhale its fresh scent but your stink seeps into my skin like the ink on your neck.
How dare you come back now that I’m finally well, and to think I used to get off on your smell. Stop haunting my sleep like some selfish disease.
Leave my heart alone before it starts to bleed because my pheromones are lusting for someone new
and he definitely fucks much better than you.
