haze of grins and giggles

march's night dissolves into a soft, blurred high,  

an almost slow-motion dream where reality fades into a cascade of lime sighs,  

whenever you're near, a familiar whisper like the call of pink pills that draws me in,  

goddamn wet hair clinging with evidence of sweat and reckless falls,  

clothes marked by skateboarding scars,

what even are you doing to me?

confusing, is one way to say it;  

but one thing i've said before and will say again:  

your presence is a fevered rush,  

each bruise and red stain a testament to living on the edge.  

and that smile -- oh god, that fucking smile --

if i could, i'd run away for a moment every time i see it;  

nothing describes it better than the way it makes me explode like a burst of yellow lights,  

yet with its welcoming glow, it wipes away scars with the tender heat of bandages on fresh wounds.

flattered is one way to say it,  

as if your grin cleanses my hidden, embarrassing marks,  

transforming never-ending pain into warm hugs and coffee breaks.  

now your voice drifts in again, soft and deliberate,  

teasing me in slow, looping beats,  

reminding me of our banter; a back-and-forth haze of half-remembered songs,  

nicotine highs fluttering through waves of bittersweet intoxication.

in these shared moments,  

though i carry agonizing histories in ink and scars,  

your gentle voice and raw tenderness promise me a sweet escape,

where even my darkest edges soften beneath the curves of your smile.