There’s nothing I need more than this. I can feel it behind my ribs and under my skin like it’s begging me to go. I’ve set ground rules for dreaming. I can’t hope too much and I can’t think about it at night. I can’t say it out loud and I can’t write it down. I can’t send it through phone lines and I can’t go to sleep with it in my brain. I can write it in the fog on the windows but only before it rains. I can paint it and I can give it to the universe and I can send it your way. 

I wake up and it’s midnight. The hours are gone quicker than the thirty seconds you were here. I think I’m losing pieces. I keep searching for things I wrote when I had you, when you had me. There was never an us. I was me and you were you. Two completely opposing sides. I was never happy I was cautious. I walked on broken glass and ribs and bones and you didn’t try once to clean any of it up.

I think of you in black and white and I think of you flashed and faded and far away. You were when my walls glowed red and the air snuck in under my sleeves. My hair’s longer and I think I’m a bit taller but you’ll never change. I’m not angry I never was. I’m pretty dead set on never becoming what I was. I’m throwing together pieces of everyone else. Everything I had, everything I have, everything I’m going to lose. I wrote it on a piece of paper and I folded it up and gave it to you. Because I need you to have it. I need you to want it. I wonder if you’ve read it. 

I’d give anything for a straight shot to you. I’d give up my whole world if it meant I could be part of yours.