Words roll off your tongue,
through your fingertips,
and onto a computer screen
before I can drag them into a
dark alley
and beat the crap out of them.
I can’t seem to touch the
thoughts that have a
grip on your mind.
I want to steal them from you and
bury them in the middle of
a forest on the other
side of the universe.
It’s been so long since you’ve
cracked a smile or
whispered “I love you”
under your breath in
front of a mirror.
With too many “I need space”s
as a response to your string of
“I need you”s,
you’re convinced that you are
not worth the
weight of your statements.

Your eyes rush to every
stretch mark and scar as your
mind rips itself inside out
without realizing that all the
flaws you see prove that
you have survived
wars with demons.
You beat them before anyone even
caught a glimpse of your battle.
No wonder they don’t
understand the wounds that
appeared on your skin and
in the depths of your brain,
they didn’t even realize
you were fighting.

You have yet to realize that
without every bruise,
crease, and
imprint,
you would not be alive.
If you were really as light and
easy to carry as your
kindergarten book bag, you’d be a
ghost and hauntings give me chills that
no blanket or jacket can cure.
I want you.
I want you as a person,
as a human.
I want to be able to touch and
feel and
listen to the crack in your voice and
teach you about everything you
ignore about yourself
until you figure out that
there is more to
love.

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