Sometimes I wonder

If I’m still the most beautiful person you’ve ever met. Sometimes I wonder

if it’s normal to still think about you

as much as I do.

Then I think: fuck normal. It is a concept with an incomplete existance

and it demands from me only that

which I cannot give 

like you did.

Sometimes I wish that we had met right now, instead of then, I think

we would have been good for one another

instead of poisonous

“Don’t bite the apple, Eve.”

I have not learned my lesson but I bet I could teach you a few things like

that you love when I tug on your earlobes 

with my teeth

Or that you love the little sounds I make when I am kissed and kissed often

"And by somebody who knows how".