words bleed from my fingertips onto the stainless steel sink and i watch them spill down the drain like old coffee that has sat in a mug for days. words that have been romanticized; over used but yet slips through my lips; i cannot help myself but let regret seep through my face.
they spill into my lap and i intertwine my fingers which are touching upon the threads that struggle to untangle themselves. i struggle to untangle them and this for some reason scares me. it scares me that i cannot control the shaking of my hands like a rising volcano that suppressed its screams. it scares me that i knotted the slithering snakes in my lap and which hisses through my ears; the echoing sound of myself could hear the fear.
and as i think further upon the words that slipped through my chapped lips, i realize that i'm a silly child after all; unable to control. unable to foresee. unable to be loved. i am a silly child asking for silly things.
i let the words i said ring through the air and touch upon his skin. his bones went frigid for a second but he continued to love me.
it was then when i realized that he had a different concept of love.