i never did listen to the first words you ever said to me, i was just fixated on your lips and i wish i could remember. i keep wracking my brain because maybe if i remember them we can start all over again and it wouldn’t be the way it is now. maybe if i remember our story retells and i can relive the last 2 years 3 months of my life with an embrace tighter than the moon’s gravitational pull of the tide.

i swear things were never meant to be this way, see, i went to a fortune teller and she said that i’d meet someone who dances with two left feet and you dance with two left feet and a walking stick; you’re not good, at all, but you tried for me and the fortune teller said that it was supposed to last so i’m not sure why i’m sat here in a pool of your love letters trying to find hints of what went wrong. i’m looking for grazes, cuts, scratches, molehills.

i always got told you weren’t good for me anyway and it’s probably better that it happened like this and we’re only young and there’s so many more people in the world i’ve yet to meet but i don’t want to meet people if every trait they possess isn’t yours and i don’t want to meet people if their hair doesn’t fall the same way and i don’t want to meet people whose front tooth doesn’t cower in slightly and i don’t want to meet people if their favourite food is noodles when you hated noodles.

you were good for me because you made me think and i thought about construction and how things are built and how a fire can burn it to the ground because nothing is more powerful than nature itself. i think maybe we were a house but i keep hoping we’re fire and i’ll set fire to the thorns stabbing my heart and it’ll all be on fire everything will be on fire and it’ll be dangerous and exciting, like you and it most likely won’t be good for me but at least it’ll be ******* pretty. i want to hold your hand as my heart bolts out of my chest and melts into a drain outside your house.