pollution_

My pages are still littered with thoughts of you that remain long after the smell of you has washed off my clothes.
My skin still tingles in the places your fingertips quietly brushed against it.
Electric sparks.
Firefly glow.
The moments with you -like the clothes strewn across my bedroom floor- are covered with bits and pieces you left behind.
Tiny remnants of the times our breezy eye contact left me breathless, breathless in my tar stained lungs that now only ever seem to inhale your name.
Chipped pieces of porcelain memories of the look in your eyes remain etched into my polluted mind.
Engraved across the pages of my diary.
The smell of your skin beats through my body like my favourite song stuck on repeat.
You're in my icy veins and it seems your sunshine smile is melting through these brittle defenses.
Cracks are forming in the fortress walls I've built so high to guard myself from being hurt again but your velvet lips march on across my battleground body.
I'm under attack in the best way possible and your persona is polluting my castle.