caught up in anticipation,
how long will it be
before you find me boring,
before I think you are.
Right now,
your touch is electric,
and every kiss
brings a frisson of pain
and pleasure,
as I imagine telling your young lover
just what it is
you get up to in the morning,
before you return to her.
Right now,
you shine for me,
bright and pure,
but eventually,
the patina of jealousy
will coat even the newest of loves,
and dinge it all
to a heartsick green.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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