It's tragic how I'm becoming altogether so accustomed to
and entirely becoming dependent upon this bliss, when
you say it's alright, and you want to see me too. Every
time you instigate, I'm happy to throw myself at your feet.

Even though there are far greater disasters occurring each
day, you are the most wonderful tragedy I eagerly await.

Recurring nightmares, hushed whispers, and words that
we can't recall the next morning, kisses that still taste of
vodka and cheap beer – these are the things that I am
coming to crave. I spend my nights lying in wait.

We shake the bed better than any earthquake, and when
morning comes we contemplate our simple fatalities.

And if that's all you choose to call this, a pre-determined
natural disaster, I'm content to slide into your sheets and
move mountains with you. It's just that someday this hot
fiery passion will spill over the surface, and ruin lives.

But that's just the natural beauty wrapped within a disaster,
and the inevitability of hurt makes it hard to keep crawling back.