He will find me out.

I am filled with such a longing, a never ending need. I want to be filled, held, connected, penetrated by that strong pulsing ****. I want to bury my head under his arm, burrowing down the rabbit hole of uncertainty and unknowing. I want him to stroke my hair, wiping away every worry. I want, I want...I want. Like a spoiled child, no matter what I get I want more. I want him to want me. To tell me in no uncertain terms that I am all he thinks about, all he needs. I want to be in his dreams, a figment of his unconscious desire. ******* worship me you ****. I am your messiah. Don’t crucify me with your cool, collected cruelty. I don’t want to run, I want to be chased and caught. ******* capture me, catch me as I fall into this psychotic pitt of certain craziness. I am insane. Completely batshit crazy. The amount of life I have wasted looking at my phone to see if you have answered me is a small suicide. Stupid. Stop. Stop. Step back. Bring yourself away from the cliff edge. You’re tottering but haven’t yet fallen. Fallen flat on your face. Fallen away. Fallen to pieces. I can’t fall to pieces if I was already broken. Smashed, cracked. Unfixable. I just wanted him to hold me together. Just for a little while. So I would know, even for a moment, what it was like  to be whole.