Passion Restoration

The world stole my mind from me again and its injecting into my bloodstream sickly green thoughts. 

 

Melancholy is a parasite in me that’s dormant. Now, it’s growing. 

These thoughts are bringing worry. 

 

I'm going to lie down next to this open window, 

breathe in spring air born from the sky, sifting through the night's darkness 

until it's in this room lifting me.  

 

I'm going to retreat to this bed hoping sleep will give me my mind back 

until you and I find each other and I can take you to it and lie you down.  

 

Volcanic heat starting from my core will eradicate those sickly green thoughts once your arms lock themselves around my neck, 

keeping my lips bound to you. 

 

I’d only truly get my mind back when you destroy the tormentors surrounding me 

by biting your lip, telling me you’re mine, tracing my arms with your hands chiseled by some sculptor from beyond. 

 

This room will fill up with that spring air again when I get you in my arms, 

but also your sounds of warding off the world’s massive dark side.