a poem- I know I don’t like to be alone, with the monsters in my head and under my bed. You helped me to realize others had similar dreams, thoughts stretching at their seams. Yes, you’re the only man who’s seen me through, right down to my roots. And I enjoy some silence, peaceful and restful. But I don’t like the loneliness because I’d rather be with you. But there’s a deeper wrong than anything either of us have done. You still believe love is just from friendship and not wanting distance.

a declaration- It’s not.

support- Love, to me, is: something you have to feel. It’s what you feel when you pet your dog, hold a child, or smell the hair of the person you’re sleeping next to. That swelling, crushing, warm feeling deep within the pit of your stomach. The thing you’ve dreamt of since you were tiny. Before you learned fear or hatred, you felt it. What soaring skies and and mountain ranges and baby animals and the idea of God makes people cry about. It’s that. It’s not learned, and if it’s not felt, then it can’t be.

the problem- I’m not sure you feel this feeling for me.