You reek of debauchery, Of wild sex on cheap sheets. Of half-drunken nights, Mindless flirting on the streets. And yet I find you comforting, I know you won’t last long. You are that pop-chart number, Not a meaningful song. There ought to be a heartbreak, For you to put your soul up for sale. Broken people tend to use, Hungry passion as their holy grail. I can swim underwater for hours, To find that pearl inside you. I can walk under dark skies, To see the light in you. I want to burn myself, To set your demons free. I can even pluck the thorns out, And plant a beautiful tree. But do give me some hope, I want to fix my emptiness with you. I’m an epic mess, I know you are too. The world would call us crazy, So be it. We are 2 broken souls, Who perfectly fit. Image Source - @benjaminpatch