Little lights

I write it on my skin, in permanent ink. It is the song of my alarm clock and the ringtone of your messages. It is all the lights in red that I could create and even then I avoid them. I still fall into drunken messages, missed calls, crossroads and questions about you. 

I am making mistakes in loving you.

They tell me to give time to time. Not to take out a nail with another nail and that he was not what I deserved. They tell me in the form of prayer and mental washing. Hoping that I learn and respect my commandments, they preach it to me because they love me.

But, the ink with alcohol and cotton are erased. The alarms fall asleep and the ringtones are silenced. I say where there is a way there is an option. And it is burning my soul and my legs tremble at the desire and need for you. 
That I love him until his twisted and complicated mind, is known. You can tell me, order me. 
Yet I don´t have a way to contain my butterflies for him.

T.A.