i remember the night you called me and told me you are in love with me

the terror and panic in one's voice when they find their soul bound to another never ceases to amaze me

and i miss you enough to make the whole world feel lonely;
echo dances above my mind in my
subconscious attempts at pulling you closer,
sooner
but she only sits on the best post and combs
through my hair with her soft + unforgiving fingers
she says "you're losing your way + Loneliness stole your line of sight. you're not a bad person for the way you tried to **** your sadness. you're helping yourself survive."
i am alone and i talk to the parts of things that
have been destroyed by love-
the picked flower forgotten
the child's toy that no longer sings
the city benches written on with black and red ink-
"would you do it again? let the fingers trace
with butane soaked tips, let the intimacy ignite
the flame, let the scars raise so terrifying and
pure.

would you do it again?"

yes.
always yes.