ROS - General

OLIVIA KOZEL

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Fever - 

Not unlike the feeling of your fingers

Brushing mine - 

 

Chills - 

Though it only takes a moment,

Eyes wide, before they’re gone - 

 

Night Sweats - 

Tracing down your back, over, under, 

Like how I’m so happy to meet you, 

Angelic stranger, demonic mind - 

 

Fatigue - 

Because wearied souls should not be toyed with - 

 

Change in weight - 

Could losing me mean gaining you?

 

Change in appetite -

And here I’m left to stew, 

Your touch still bitter on my lips…

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