i have been thinking about you too much. 

also you. 

it’s so frustrating. 

and i think the only reason i’m thinking about you so much is because he’s there, 

too.

my heart’s in a meat cleaver

my head’s forced through a lawn mower

my hands

my hands that are long and spindly and crooked like your sentences when you speak

are crushed under the weight of the grip

you have on me. 

when will i find peace? when will i be free? when can we, finally, be us?

when will you realize

how beautiful you are

when will you realize, 

as you deserve to 

that you are everything i told you you were. everything i said to you, everything i felt towards you everything i feel

about you

was

is

will always be

real. 

time for me to stop pretending otherwise. because when i love, i do it deeply and wholly and permanently and you

also you

are no exception. love leaves scars, deep ones, but my scars are not scars at all. 

they are carefully carved, beautifully executed canyons of memory. they’re full of sand that glitters, full of 

foxes

orange and bright as fire.