The Aftermath of Kwaicore

I want you to bite my lip until I can no longer speak,

and then suck other genres from my mouth so they never come up in conversation.

Honestly, I’ve never known love; 

in fact every time I think about other sounds, 

my brain cramps just to show me how painful life can be without you.

I’ve heard that true love is blind, so I read all your lyrics in braille.

I never finish reading, because real love is endless.

I’m  stunned at how you have the audacity to be beautiful, 

even on days when everything around you is ugly. 

Your eyelashes are violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink.

I see your face in every treble and bass cleft, 

hoping that you would jump out and be closer to me.

You massage my skin until my mouth sings songs my brain doesn’t know the words to, 

I want to drink the bass line of your chorus.

The vibration of your voice climbs into my ribcage like monkey bars, 

I want to sample your smile and let my heartbeat do the bass line. 

We could create the greatest love song of all time; 

and when they ask what Kwaicore really is, 

I’ll say: “She is my musician and me… I’m her favourite song.”