How beautiful.
Such desolation. I can't make up my mind and I can feel my throat begin to tighten.
I miss the grip, the bleeding of my fingers hidden by my side.
I want to write you love poems, be nostalgic for something we've never had but I might just sicken you. And in your glory, I wonder if I've ever frightened you?
I want to stop testing my borders, thinking one is one is I'll never find another.
And if I am the ONE, what can that ever mean to you? Snake eyes...
I've always called you that. It hurts to see the colors change, to feel a pull in my gut. Life seems so short to me. If it isn't lived now we'll all die soon. In this trial of damp fog and jungle gyms I hope I find you...
Alone and honest, breathing slowly with the tip of your tongue on a bead of my sweat.
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