Sometimes you get depressed and its hard to admit you need a helping hand.
Sometimes you just need someone to push past your wall and let you know that they're there and that they care and that they understand or at least want to try to.
Because you can't get it all out yourself.
That's what depression is like.
And its **** hard.

not every touch is there to scar you,

some are there to hold you

and you cannot shield yourself away out of fear that every touch is going to leave you crawling in your own skin from the itching and itching and burning and burning

because then, then you miss out on the really ******* good touches

the touches that ignite a fire inside of you that you hope keeps burning and burning and ******* burning

because it doesn't itch, somehow it soothes. it burns and it soothes and you've never felt anything like it and there are no scars, just a house on fire and every time a window smashes the exhilaration and adrenaline and exhilaration and adrenaline pours out of you and into you all at the same time.

fireworks do not compare to the explosion of endorphins, ramshackled and rummaging through you.

not every touch is there to scar you,

some are there to hold you.

She will touch you with her words,
She will draw the few constellations she knows across your skin,
She will hold your hands while listening to old songs,
She will let you see a part of her you've never seen,
She will make you reach deeper to her mystery,
She will be an atomic explosion inside your chest,
And she will consume you.

Just please,
Drown her with your love,
Because her soul is too strong and potent,
To be half loved..