i want someone to read my dirtiest thoughts
and not be scared
or pity me
i want empathy
while i spit blood and *** and sweat and pull at ingrown hairs;
while i tell you i’m not sure why i’m alive
while i tell you i’m not sure anyone loves me
while i tell you i’ve had dreams about you exploding,
your insides spread across the living room walls
in some kind of strange irony,
i want you to be as sad as I am
but lovely enough to pull us both out
i want to be saved
little by little
person by person
word by word
secret by secret
until i know longer feel like you would run if i told you i wanted you to run,
or if i wanted you to stay;
until i no longer have anything horrible enough
to scare you away.