tears well when i think of your hand arms under the pillow head above eyelids closed and flickering with dreams i hold the tense muscle of your forearm the skeletal hand with botanic veins green skin purpley grey i miss your gentle kiss tongue sliding underneath my top lip back and forth across my teeth until my jaw and eyeballs are loose. i wish your lips on my shoulder. i wish you well. well i wish i could’ve kept you under my spell. am i the only one who drank the potion? only fools rush in so is a fool who rushed in made clever if he runs back the way he came? ….or just an *******? excuse my french but you turn me into a *****. i’d fix you whole without the use of even a wrench but none of my tools could fix your desire for loneliness. and that’s not even a wound, not even anything broken for you, only me, one who needs you to feel complete. I’m such a romantic. why am i, seventeen and lovely, fresh, talented, fairly intelligent, and all around endearing so..so frantic? you said yourself you aren't worth it, all this, this ******* trouble. why is that so hard for me to believe? i sound ******* silly. this isn’t even poetic.