i walk on stilts so no one can tell how small you make me feel does that make sense? not everything makes sense it doesn’t have to you never did and what i feel for you never does i keep smashing our picture frames and letting myself get cut on the glass ‘cause i’m not ready to clean up the shards i don’t seem to be ready for anything it’s been two months since i’ve heard you sleep talk and i swear silence has never felt louder now at night i can't ever fall asleep without wondering how small her hands are compared to yours and if they’re enough for you to hold onto i wonder how soft her lips are and if you cringe when she leans in for a kiss sometimes i wonder if i saw you in a grocery store one day if we would make small talk i wonder if i would want to punch your face or caress it i think i knew that loving you was a death wish i guess i just didn’t realize that you would refuse to write the eulogy or even show up to the ******* funeral