My Truth. My Journey.

We meet in the dark and strangely the questions that haunt my every day seem to disappear into the cool night breeze - the one that sneaks in ever-so-casually through my window.
I'm okay with these thefts. I welcome them. I'm a charity of foggy memories, sour kisses and tainted yet idealistic and forever hopeful views on love.
I shed it all like skin, hoping never to be acquainted with them again.

One day the band-aid will start to lose it's grip around the wound
I'll have a legitimate fear of fear in my hands - it might only be a matter of time.
But this time, and every other time,
it felt so damn good.

And I can still taste him on my lips.