I love you,
and I'm so happy for you
for telling everyone who you are,
or I wish I could feel happy for you and our friend,
but I am filled with longing to see you,
and I want to tell you that I dream of doing everything for you,
of loving you,
and just of being near you.

God, I make it hard for myself to breathe,
driving my confused fists into my ribs,
willing them to stick out and be so brittle I hear them break.
I want them to break by someone else's hands,
so I have a legitimate reason to be hurting,
and so I have a real reason to break into the night alone and weeping.
I can breath again, and I once again feel that love for you and know I want to run eight hundred miles to you.
I know that I would never run into your arms, but I would love to see you again.

I long to hold out my arms on the door to let your through
and see you walk under them, because you're short enough.
I wish I could see you smile and I'd see the color of your braces and your lips stretch thin.
I want to see your smile again.
I want to look at your long hair, and I want to know everything about you.
I want to make everyone know that you should be loved,
and that I might love you.

God, I can feel my bones trapping me here,
but I want to be there.
I don't want to be here, hiding bruises and cuts and bones,
and lying about love and lying about my life.
I would give my body and life to be near your,
maybe even if you hated me.

I want to protect you,
I want to love you,
but you have others to do it for me,
and I will probably never see, hear, smell or touch you again,
but I will be thinking about you for years,
remembering.