Loving you was hard, wanting you was harder, but kissing your forehead was insanity.

There was something really crazy about the way you said my name.

I’m thankful for my sanity or whatever’s left of it.

Hell’s empty because all the demons are in my head.

I don’t want content. I want slight fear. Anxiety. I want a longing devotion for a twist of absence. The feeling of complete isn’t quite pleasing.

I’ll never know if it was figuratively or literally when he said I drove him crazy.

I was nineteen. You had your lips on my neck and whispers in my ear. You drove me crazy. But I mistook crazy for absolute happiness.