I love you. This is an incontestable fact. You talk about how you want a real, strong connection with me, one where we talk a lot and are involved in each others lives, and I want to cry. Because I never thought I would hear you say that so bluntly, because I didn't think I was that important to you, because as capable as I am of giving and receiving love from so many people, you will always be special. I absolutely believe there are people we meet that are meant for us. As best friends, as guardians, as lovers, as the homes we build. I don't know which you are yet. I know what I want you to be- I can hardly see past what I want you to be, when half of my heart is still jagged and sobbing and in your unknowing hands. But I love you enough that if you would have me as a friend, I would smile a smile of porcelain shards that look like perfect white teeth to make you happy. I would dance the dance I've learned of the masks, letting you see my face but not enough to see me. I would sit next to you, and you would be the sweetest, sharpest thing my heart could hold, and I would hold you all the same.
Because I love you. That is my incontestable fact.

you reach in with your
grabbing fingers and
rip
fiber by fiber tear
it out sever
every last bit of
my ******* ******* heart

take it take it take it take it it
was always yours

my love fits in
to the crook of my neck
and the palm of my hand
and the curve of my back

my love fits in
to all of my thoughts
and most of my words
and some of my days

and my love knows when
to hold me tight
and grasp me hard
and kiss me soft.

*(there is no point.
there is no punch.
there is just this.
there is just love)

i. I've never really believed
those people
that say we are made
of stardust. but the
constellation
of bite marks
you left across my chest
might just change my
mind.

ii. I'm glad a shower
is on my plan, because
instead of me
I smell like you. and don't get
me wrong, I love
the way you smell
but it might drive me
insane
with longing.

iii. being the one to leave
in a way
is easier. but please
don't think walking away from you
doesn't break me
a bit
every time.

these words lie
heaviest on my
tongue, they weigh
every other word down, color
everything I say to
you, threaten to leap
off, inserting themselves where
unwanted, unbidden, unasked and
ungiven, and I won't
free them because
I

I can't stop thinking about him. I'm on a plane, 9,682 meters above the world, literally thousands of kilometers away from him, and I can't stop thinking about him. the funny noises he makes, and the way he hugs me tighter like he isn't going to let go, and the way when he sleeps, he pulls his hood over his eyes so the whole world is kept at bay. "*******," he said, waking up in the middle of the night. the melatonin stopped working because "my brain was like ******* and I woke up." "mm. why did it do that?" "cause you're here."
I miss the way he sticks his tongue out and his laugh and the way he says he's doing fantastic like it's his favorite word. I miss his hair and his tiny kisses and his nose and mouth against the back of my ear and his chest, so soft it should be a sin and that curve above his left shoulder, where I fit perfectly, he puts his arms around me and I feel like that's it, I'm home.
the others, see, the others were fire. they were exciting and a little dangerous and always a risk. a small flirtation with tiny deaths, a dance to draw in and push out, keeping me always on my guard and dancing, dancing. I came out of those bruised and exhilarated, high on something drugs can't buy, exhausted and hungering. they kept me red.
and he
he is my blue self. he's earth, a blanket, a warm bed. safe whimsy, when I've danced over the line to danger so often, a place to rest on the sidelines. instead of a burning fascination, he's a sudden, knowing wish.
I never saw those working out. when your fascination is fulfilled, where do you go? they were nice possibilities that got me through tough realities, but fire dies down and every dancer must tire. I can imagine it, though, this future, and I'm so much more cliché than I ever thought because oh man
I'm terrified
see, I'd only ever thought about him in passing, before two days ago. what if, my mind whispered. when I told him I'm not good enough for these things, I was softening my thoughts, the ones that always came after. I'm not- I can't stop thinking this, can't stop it from saddening me because I know- good enough for you. but I don't tell him this because he would tell me I'm wrong. no, he would say, this proves that you are. I almost said it, I whispered the softer version into his neck that night, half happier than I'd been in so long and half so heavy I was surprised I didn't sink through the beanbag into the floor, anchored in his arms. he wants me, and I? I want him and know he deserves more, deserves better and I'm having such a hard time convincing myself not to be selfish and go for it, grab his hand and run so far away there is no one else. or better yet, wrap myself in a fortress made of his arms and let him hold me to sleep.
how did I get into this? how did I let this happen? how did I not know, not notice I love (****. ****. what have I done?) love him until only two days ago?
those three hours between when I realized and when he told me he wants it, too, were the hardest thing I've done in so long. exquisite pain, lying there next to him, terrified out of my mind of loving yet another friend to ruin. I'm still scared.
but god, I would give so much, up here on this airplane, I would give up hours and days, I would give up minutes and memories, I would give up wokenness and sleep, again, just to be back in his arms.

I'm leaving my heater on
tonight and it's all your
fault, see, cause
I haven't adjusted to how cold it is
without you here and I
keep shivering. You're
a better heater than
this machine. I need
the noise, too, the whirr
and hum, because it's
raining and I can't stand
the rain outside my window without
thinking about you. "*******
listen" you would whisper
and fling open the window
and pause the movie
and kiss me and I want
that again I want
you again I want
you to be back I don't
want this empty bed or
whirring heater, neither
give off as much warmth or
make as nice noises
as when you kiss me.

(this poem might be
pointless but I guess
what I'm trying to say is
thank you)