I have known your imperfections and I have secretly wanted all of you.
I have wanted things to never change, secretly,
I have wanted to live in lies, to close my eyes,
To cut myself apart every day only to be kissed by you again.
Only for your safe, burning embrace, your terrible singing, your raucous smile.
I am still in love with you.
I secretly love your sporadic, haunting, cruel phone calls,
Am secretly glad that your lost flat words match my ripping insides,
One of us is supposed to be angry.
I am supposed to be angry.