I used to enjoy being alone,
But then it became loneliness,
And it is somehow suffocating
To lie here personless.

My bedsheets crave your touch,
As I crave your presence,
We are both isolated, but
I am unsure in which sense.

I promised myself months ago that
This pencil would not touch paper,
And write words about you,
(but it's 00:26 and) I can't think of anything better.

You are my waking grace.
Walking through the valley and the shadows of death,
Piercing my night with a holy moon.

You are the rising strength of languid muscles
Warm inside each of their bellies when cold apathy teases them
from all sides.

You're a person who is personless
I could never consider all of you
You meant me and you said me
Included me in all these things, and I
am just so honored.

I don't think it's hopeless.

I don't think it's depressing, no
Not even when it is.

I think you meant me and you said me
For no reason, for one reason,
and for infinite reasons.

I love you, and no thing
could ever, ever change that.