Eyelashes and Shooting Stars at Eleven:Eleven

When something keeps it's taste longer then you expected and your liking it, you forget about the other food on the plate they become second best at first but then lose all significance. The one thing tastes so good that you finish and leave behind a hefty tip along with paying in full but ate only a quarter of the meal. It's worth it, some things are worth a lot more then they seem when given the chance. I don't plan on spitting you out anytime soon, the love secreted from each bite keeps me breathing, I'm addicted. I'm at the point where I can't lose you and all these silent nights with communication towers intercepted by the fabrics of our complicated minds leave me gasping for air. I don't understand how the withered constellations of scrambled emotions float over us in such random intervals like the shooting stars over the stadium of my backyard. Yet not so frequent. I blow hard at them with all my might to change their course. I blow at them with such yearning hope like when you hold an eyelash and blow it away in path of a wanting wish. When the cloud of smoke from a fire of useless vowels and consonants redirects I know I love you it always comes back to that. It's just those silent times where we hug and kiss but you leave in a subtle wave taken by the tide away from me. Are you kicking and screaming? It does make a difference. I hate every vehicle in the world because there's a chance it might take you away from me. Please don't go, not without saying goodbye. A real goodbye. I’m treading in my biased thoughts created from a delirium saturated conscience corrupting more nerves by the second. I love you it always comes back to that. As long as time keeps moving and the stars still navigate across the darkened canvas above, my wish will always be you. Forgive me.