As the last flick switches electric hum in to silence
Stealing light from the darkened day
I lie blinded and deafened to my own excuse for escape

Under a barren blanket
I see only a singular image
A solitary thought
You, and the repeating words

I miss you, I love you
I miss you, I love you

Wherever you go
You never leave my head

It wasn't until her back was turned,  she realized her grave mistake. His knife slipped in silently between her ribs. With little effort it pierced her heart. The shock and shame. The ridicule, it was all the same.

She died knowing where to lay the blame.

Burn.
Step onto the embers of my
Secret weaknesses and
Impersonate the
Sword of Michael.

This longing for Valhalla
Won't see me alive much
Longer.
Take me to the nearest battle.
Let me die slaying a terrorist

Or intending ******.
Or should I pray to gods of a more
Peaceful nature than
Odin?
Love and let live.

Nah, this is in my Norwegian
Bones.
I'll die wielding blade.
I'll die laughing, opened up and
Spilling.

I'll "not go gentle into that good
Night."
So burn.
Be bonfire to my innermost of
Darknesses.

There are shadows there that
Demand chasing.
Make me proud to be
Midgardian.
Burst into flames and remind me:

Sticks and stones are feathers.
Buddha and Baldr.
Enlightenment and love. Well,
I'd rather be a warrior in a church
Than a priest in a battle.

Odin's one good eye
Is mine.
The other weeps for the weak.
May they find
Comfort in the daylight,

While us
Others sharpen our
Weathered hearts
In the cold, uncertain night we
Belong to, like water to snow.

I wake up this morning, it's been thirty days since we last spoke. My heart has aged more than that.

I turn to my right, sighing out slowly, feeling my ligaments creak and my bones moan, put on my glasses, and have to push away the thought of you a hundred times in those few seconds. I get up and wear something you'd hate. I cry in a way you'd hate. I love you in a way you'd hate.

I wonder where you are right now and if you care about where I am.

(In case you're wondering, I'm lost in the sea of you. I'm lost in every memory. I'm lost in laying by the gazebo, I'm lost in counting stars, I'm lost in paying for ice cream, I'm lost in now-burnt-down favorite pizza places. I'm lost in sunglasses. I'm lost in sweatshirts. I'm lost in it all.)

Maybe, we're only pretty in context. Maybe this isn't what love is supposed to be. Maybe we were always all wrong.

But I don't care, I want your homemade haircuts and messed up spine and bony fingers, delicate like bluebird legs, and the way your eyes light up when you see me. I want to be where you are again, feel your arm around my shoulder again, feel your cheek pressed to mine again, feel your laughter shake me like a tiny animal in the jaws of you. I miss your chaos and disaster and starving and boy crying. I can't sleep at night knowing that you're not still wrapped in the letters you wrote me.

I'm trying to get over it, but I'm buried under the weight of it all.