Awkward Headaches: Kissing Salamanders

Everyone tells me that this is wrong. Nothing I can do to stop it. To stop them. Nothing I will ever do will make you leave my head. My head. The pain. Your eyes. It all makes sense now. Almost. But it never quite will, now will it? Time. Oh, time. When will things change for us? Quilts are cozy. Feathers on wings. Roses, roses, roses. And raindrops. Frost. The winter kills us all. And darkness. Will the windows shine for yet another day? Will the stars revolve, elvolve, puzzles from the twlight sky? Oh, my dear, my love, you are so sweet to me. Rotting logs and leaves. Small children play in the creek in the ravine, and time slips away. The green, the green, the green. Oh how I miss those timeless days. Will you bring me back to that place, my love? Oh this waiting is intolerable. The music, no words, just the music. When will you comprehend my metaphors? When will you see they mean nothing to your eyes. Your eyes. Oh god, those eyes. Please, just kiss me one more time. The moonlight. Opposite of what you think it might means. I need you. Envelope me, as air. Vulnerability. Oh please, make me vulnerable. Stab me. Kill me. As long as you touch me. Oh god, please. Touch me once more. Your skin is my cocaine. And those eyes. Soothe me with your voice, my love. I just can't separate. everything is one. You and you and me. When will we break free? Please, promise you won't leave. I love you. but I see you smile to yourself. Please, don't laugh at me. Hold me. Know me. Holding on to your bedsheets at four o'clock a.m. is everything. Nothing in my mind straightens. Everything is swirling. I know you take this the wrong way. I'm so very wrong for you. Can we make it right?