I don't want your soul-*******, your pick-me-up lines.
I just want enough air in this room and enough space in this town and enough corners in my brain to hide in.
I just want a bed at night to lie in, I just want an atmosphere without holes in it, I just want you to stop looking at me like that,
and I just want to give you this hole in my stomach where food used to flourish, the people used to live forever and the point of everything was that it made us happy.
I don't want to settle for the background of a chagall. I want the lovers, too.