Please stop with all your leaving. I'm scared of all your constant moving on. I never said anything about the way you tried to find God between my temples but today is the day you stop mourning me because, darling, I'm not even dead yet. And I know you feed on me, I know you've never done anything else than believing you're not good enough, humble humble boy, but I can tell you that the fires you started will do more damage than you anticipated.
I'm more than okay with that. I wrote you a letter once or twice saying that should I not **** myself I would gladly be killed by you. When you talk, sometimes I wish I was deaf so I'd have a reason to study your lips. You have no idea how your touch feels.
I never asked you about the things you talk about in your sleep. I never asked you about the pleas for fire.
In the end, I'll still be the match that didn't light and I don't know where you will be.
Tell me all of your fears. I'm only scared of you. Of you never loving me like this. Never like this.