Well I hope you'll be happy to know that I hate you and I want absolutely nothing to do with you.
And it doesn't hurt at all that you don't want me as bad as you do her.
But it's so hard to look in your eyes and try to recite those words "I hate you" because it's untrue.
I love you entirely and I want absolutely everything to do with you.
It hurts so much that you don't want me.
And I want you to know that it's okay.
That I wont end up lying on the midnight grass on our favorite hill.
That I wont cling the picture I kept of you to my chest.
That I wont chase down fifty-four pills with a bottle of chardonnay.
And I wont think of you as the letters are too blurry to read and I feel my body float to the sky and become a new planet in the back of the galaxy.
And it wont be your fault if I call you and you find me too late and the feeling of your tears hitting my lips will be the last thing I endure.
It'll all be worth it in the end because your hands will be on my neck and my back on your lap and I'll feel like I'm dancing in this dark beautiful space.
Don't worry.

*I wont.

He saved her from finishing last in the race for top spot on the beauty scale by finishing last himself.
He knew about her dandelion kissed heart making wishes upon more wishes searching for those seeds blown by her everlasting, heartbreak drenched breath into the anonymous wind.
He saves her while she bleeds out dead crocodile tears not wanting to take the same tissue that could replenish her very soul that.
He held out for her for the past year and a half - no try eternity and a half.
As she wanders these halls she is broken and he wishes to restore her but the Hydrangea buss melted off her skin and flew to never land or was it the Netherlands?
She feels them both the same as he remembers.
Is her heart really gone because he tried so hard to chisel through the brick wall only to find stone after wretched stone?
Are her finger tips so soaked with sadness and pools of depression from wiping off what the others call... What do they call those clear, wet broken dreams she wipes from the corner of her eyelids?
Tears. Oh tears. Yes.
Tears so they called them and oh such a simple word for a much more gargantuan meaning.
As the ocean leaks from her eyelids colored black from the mascara she uses to hide those insecurities woven deep within the organs held together in a system to make that beautiful gentle dandelion that is the organism called HER.
As she wonders where the seeds have landed from those dandelions she blew in hopes of finding that forever romance she comes to find that lying on your chest the day you broke through the solitary confinement over what she thought of as insignificant - her heart grew out of that rigid boulder of a shell and she didn't have to wonder where the wind took those dreams because those dreams were under her head as she rested in that bed. your bodies leaked all over the love scented sheets rocking to lullabies of sweat and the aroma of rose petaled 'I love you's' .
He never stopped trying to break through that barrier she carried behind that feeble rib cage he made it his mission his priority careful because one small flick could cause an avalanche of deep red cells that will leak through wounds made by the razor blade that she'd call savior.
That she wouldn't call but scream and the only one who would hear it was he.
And so determination.
It drove him off the cliff called insanity only to be lifted into that cavern of a soul she had buried deep inside.
It was like entering heaven and now he knows what it feels like and no fantasy of a land that you visit after death kisses your lips ******* the breath out of your lungs through your throat could ever measure up to that moment that she looks in your eyes and your souls can no longer qualify in the world of words, terms, phrases and etcetera and etcetera and etcetera as plural.