i’m submissive,
to my small light rectangle,
rectangle of hope,
beeping with admiration and love,
an opportunity to scorn myself and read deeply into everything and imagine constant hatred and captured screen images shared with disgust and ellipsis
i want that hope and light and soaring amongst blue sky and hand holding
then i don’t want the inevitable tears as i imagine all the ways you hate me,
all the little cracks inside you, filled with hate for me,
love yesterday melted away,
leaving empty holes for hatred
reserved for me,
more than anyone,
because who’s worse than me?
your love is pretend,
i’m sorry,
i just.
feel like.
it is.
not that it’s you. you don’t make me feel like that.
my brain just
tells me that
!
i’m not sure if its you.
you snap at me a lot, you’re hard to read, but you have a soft heart and softer eyes and a big smile and nice lips that leave pretty imprints on my cheeks

i
don’t
know
you’re so perfect.
where in you is there room for love for me? i am so flawed, so underdeveloped?
will this be nothing in a year?
will we not be friends?
i’m scared but i did something. i did something i wanted to do. we’re more than friends right now. we’re relationship partner cheek kissing hand holding giggling people which is fine with me.
i hope not too much changes.
don’t be weird.
i hope you like me.