All I have is my humanity.
I am so soft.
I am so soft.
I am so soft.
I often repeat myself.
As if I am trying to convince myself of what I am saying.
As if I am running from my words but they are stones in my shoes and I am falling after every breath.

Listen;
Someone told me I should write a book.
Instead
I looked at the clouds and counted how many looked like the way your lips would feel across my neck.

Listen;
I am tearing out pages of the bible and strangling God with prophecy that is my soul.
I know the moon too well for her to spill my secrets.

I thought we would grow old together.
Birth babies like laughter together.
But I am waking up in the middle of the day to see your face screaming voicelessly and I would rather run straight for the fucking edge of this earth than never hear you say my name.

I am shaking, darling.

People are staring at my paranoia and my suffering is so loud.

Last night I had a dream that we were standing in a room of mirrors and I tried to reach for you.

Last night I had a dream that we were standing in a room of mirrors and I tried to reach for you.

Goddammit.

Last night I had a dream that we were standing in a room of mirrors and I tried to reach for you.

I could see you cracking open your ribcage and I wanted nothing more than to hide your hands in mine and kiss you back together.
Kiss every broken bone created by you and by me and by me.

I know you are scared of my hands.
They have always been so destructive.
But for you,
I would break them back and make them as soft as Beethoven’s fifth secret.

I know you are scared of my heart.
It has always beat everyone who has tried to turn me into water.
Something that flows so easily.
No rough edges.
No cracked centers.
But for you,
I would break it open and make it as holy as the verses you whispered into me the night you told me you loved me.