i wish i never liked women, there’s so much going against it anyway. i’m a coward. i hate myself. i hate myself for wanting to be selfish, while knowing in the same thought that i’m the most selfish woman in my life. but if being selfish means someday i could look into your eyes several sunrises in a row, it couldn’t possibly be that bad. to see the meadows of wheat surrounded by moss in your eyes makes art from here to infinity look like mud. i would untangle the thorniest bush i could find if it meant your heart was in the middle. i can already imagine my thumb brushing a smile onto your lips, my hand cupping your cheek, while the softest nothings are exchanged. the thought of you, and everything you come with moving into my life sounds like a dream. but it’s not one to come true. i don’t get to let myself get lost in your eyes, running through meadows. my head knows that, my heart strings still wail, i try to quiet them. give them a drink… or a few. but after the glass is empty they no longer have anything to occupy them. and they sing your name again