Between morning-after kisses,
a bare-faced confession:

You’re the girl of my dreams.

I craved those words.
They made me
better than the other girls.
I’d do anything to get my fix of it
to keep them from the rest of you.

Come over before midnight,
leave before mid-morn.
Anything to hear them again,
anything for my fill of you.

I should have known,
those words came with a caveat.
A crushing realization
that sent me crashing to the earth,
before shackling me to the ground.

When you said those words,
you meant I shouldn’t have any.