Often at night I would run my fingers through my hair
My nails ghosting over my scalp was the only sound I could hear over my headphones
I fought the sputter of my chest,
the burn in my nose, and the lump in my throat
My room was pitch black and my eyes were closed
I watched as the colors danced across the back of my eyelids
The music got quieter as the song ended
and my thoughts got louder as warmth beaded at the corner of my eyes
My fingers twitch with anticipation
And I question myself,
Will they still be there in the morning?
Author’s Note:
I struggle with romantic relationships, I become intense and get lost in my passion. Due to my own disorder, I tend to have harsh mood swings so I accidently love with teeth instead of gentle lips. Love is often described as this hunger, but never as those who don’t want to be hungry.
Grim Hayward | 17 | Grenada, MS | @pretty.boygrimreaper on TikTok
