Oh Michael how my heart breaks for you. For I will never have you, and yet my heart is cracking from all the love I'm not living. And you are so oblivious. And you are so unobtainable and untouchable; because I am so broken. I'm not putting you through that. I would crush you with the sheer weight of me. You will never see all of these true pillars of myself, for I find it hurts to beat at brick walls with bare hands and tear skin before secrets. All of the space in my head is so grand, that even you, with all your space of your 5'9"(I'm guestimating here) figure could not begin to fill the empty space in my chest. Your smile can light everything in a room, but the unswept corners of my mind remain unlit. And your hands are the gentlest I've felt (perfect for a gentleman. you've always liked my puns), and yet they have yet to take away all of the hurt I place upon you. So it is for these reasons I will always love you, but cannot.
Yours forevermore,
Kristen Nicole White

you called me today
and asked if we could not have deep conversations anymore.
then you asked me to define deep. and I didn't want to.
because that wasn't what I wanted.
but I've had to become submissive to you
and your stupid requests
all because of a card, with words of distress
with words of don't leave me and trust I'm here's
and you still act like you're 10
or so says my mom
and my therapist
and my doctor
and my teacher
and your best friend.
and that sounds mean
but honestly it's true
I connect with him better than you
but i swear i won't sleep with him
i wont **** him up
because I'll lose you already
so who ******* cares?
cause in a month I'll be gone
and you can forget
so you'll feel okay and I'll waste away
because again, you act like you're 10.
which is probably why Henry lets you complain
cause he's just the same
and you take your coffee with daily suicide threats
that I freak out about and you forget.
cause I've been in a pysch ward,
but not in your head,
but I promise you're better than restraints on a bed
just maybe not always
cause sometimes you're mean
and can't come to terms with the fact
that not everyone wants to worship you
or talk to you or hear you
or maybe even see you.
but you wouldn't know
cause you live in a bubble.
you're always safe
you're cared for,
so you'll turn around,
and
slam
the
door.

i believe in numbers and graphs and death and that nothing happens after it. i am a realist with clouds in her head. that's problematic.

but, i also believe in words. i believe in words like how i know that four to the power of two will always be sixteen but four times two will always be eight. and that is the truer problem, i believe in words with numbers.