there's always been something about those nights—
lilies bathed in a pale blue glow like the one that
glistens around you skin, arms around my shoulders &
major triads light waves away
there's panic hiding in the rosebushes &
amelancholy taste in the rain that always
reminds me of the soft yellow blazing fire
playing in your eyes, & I can't help but to feel the arms
around my shoulders inching closer to my
as you take another sip of your wine—but I don't
want it—no—I don't need it (you?)
you're intoxication without the alcohol—
the poison in the nectar...

A/N: This is weird. I don't drink at all and this sort of came out at 1:33 in the morning. Strange stuff...