i'm not sorry for calling you at midnight and listening to your silence,
i'm not sorry snapping at you,
i'm not sorry for hating you because you're flirting with her,
i'm sorry that you are so afraid.
today, i gave you your very late birthday present,
i wouldn't trade that look you gave me for the world, i can't help craving feeling close to you,
because it's like i become enveloped in your shadow, i sense your arms, and i know their touch,
the smooth skin, the shoulders that reach and wrap your arms around me,
hugging me, tight. yours.
i'm lying: i want you. i want you to kiss me and i want you to hold my hand,
i want you not to avoid me and i want you to adore me as I adore you,
it upsets me that perhaps you just want my attention... as opposed to my presence.
but i'm too scared to leave you, so i give it to you anyway.
i dream of kissing you, i dream of loving you,
and when i wake up the only thing that's different is that, now, i consciously love you.
don't tell me to leave: don't. i can't and i won't,
i know you're just like the rest, scared of commitment and terrified of getting hurt,
and i know i don't deserve it, (my summer boy tells me i don't. but i think he's in love with me.)
but sometimes... love is the most elaborate method of self harm.