this isn't supposed to be poetic nor pretty but every time your name comes to mind all i can think about is the way you taste (like summer, freeing and bone chilling in the same way that my teeth chatter when we're holding hands at a parade and the temperature is way colder than it should be for october) and the sound of your breathing (more comforting than white noise and it keeps me warmer than wearing all of your coats at once ever could) and the way you hold me when you slip away to sleep (subconsciously tighter than before, like you need me, even in your dreams) and things feel okay even if they aren't because they will be, they always will be, and it isn't hard to tuck away the metal when i have you. i just don't need it, i don't need to ******* own blood because you'd offer to let me d r i n k yours if that's what it took, and that's enough to make me not need it at all. you're always putting me first but what you're blind to is that id throw myself in the way of any harm aimed towards you and id wrap myself around your heart if i could because once there's a crack more will branch off and i have to keep it from uprooting itself and shriveling to nothing right in my hands because the blood that i so desperately lust after would be left on my hands and that's something that i just can't wash off (nor would i scrub my hands raw ever again). i seem to have gained entrance inside you, with every brush of your mouth against my forehead i realize i don't want to ever leave, i won't ever leave, and good thing, too, because there seems to be no reentry allowed.