There's 52 weeks in a year
that means 104 weeks go into two years
and then 156 in three
and 208 in four
and 260 in five
and 312 in six...

I wrote something for you that's six years long.

I hope to god you can read it

I love your smile
all quiet, and cute
but flirty, [****?]

I'm not good with words, I guess
but you know, you make me smile
and that's just one reason that

I love you
and all of your fragile pieces

His voice is a low hum
Almost to low to hear
His hands are rough
But can still be held
I am a deep shade of blue

The closeness of his body
To mine makes my heart
Pick up speed

The way he looked at me
That look of playfulness
With underlying desire

I can feel his presence when
He's near by
And he can feel mine

He holds my heart
And I am finally
The holder of his

Sometimes I wish that he'd just listen to me, you know? Like, all I'm trying to do is just tell him what he should feel.. Or rather, how I feel.

I wanted to talk to him, ask him about all the darkest pain she felt whenever he held her hand, touched her mind. She wouldn't let me SPEAK to anyone.

But I needed to speak. And October listened.

I'm not sorry she did.

Sometimes, I look back at all the things I've done

and I sit.
and I wonder.


And then I think of you.