and i lay on my side oftentimes
when i am able to talk to you
and in that starless night under cover of darkness
i love you, i love you, i love you
and you love me, you love me, you love me
enough to listen to tired, whiny ramblings,
mostly asleep,
you let me breathe.

tiny, she was 8 years old,
and she asked,
"do you hate me?
is the reason youre so cruel to yourself
because you hate me?
am i the reason youre so mean?
is this my fault?"
and i hugged her,
and i cried,
and i said "no.
i could never hate you.
it could never be your fault.
i didnt mean to make you think that it was."

If i were to disappear, would you look for me?
If i let my wings spread across the sky, would you follow me?
If my wounds were deep, would you tend to them?
Or, perhaps, would you turn away?
Would it be too much to bear, to witness, to lay your eyes upon?
If i were to begin running to the sea, would you run with me?
If i screamed into the nothing as loud as i could, would you scream with me?
If i asked you to love me with all your heart, would you love me?
Or, perhaps, would i not be the girl you were looking for?
Would it be too much to care so deeply, so tenderly, so fully?
Would it break my heart?
Or, perhaps, it would break yours?