You are a sugar cube
dissolving in my absinthe.
You are a bouquet
caressed by an open flame.
You are an embrace
from an intoxicated stranger.
You are love;
love in the strangest way.
You are a glass half full
leaking onto the table.
You are a birthday
that coincides with Christmas Day.
You are chocolate that although melted
still tastes the same.
You are joy;
joy in the strangest way.
You are a lipstick stain
on some else’s coffee cup.
You are the rise and fall
of someone else’s chest.
You are the welcome home
someone else gets to come back to.
You are heartache.
You are sadness.
You are pain;
pain in the strangest way.