please don't talk to me about how i'm feeling
please just--
hold me a little bit longer, a little bit closer,
a little bit less like i'm tearing your soul from your heart
and more like i put it back together (because i did, i helped);

your blue eyes are brighter than a fast food sign even when they're glazed
like a sloppy coat of paint
and your breath stills feels like summer's relief,
but your kisses are stilted and hesitant,
like you're as consumed with concern as i am,
and dearest love, we only have the energy for one of us to fall apart
at a time.

(can i have my turn first?)