Darling, you think deeply. You hold onto the wrongdoings of others so you can convince yourself you do no harm. Its quite the opposite love. Your hands are stained with blood as are mine. Your wrists run red and leave trails of white, all healed but still staring up at you in reminder of a time you wanted to feel numb. When you've run out of excuses why you haven't come back to me yet, just come, and I will be here.