your lips on my lips
your hands on my hips
all I feel now are your
delicate like a feather
pleading “hold me together,”
but now all they do is restrain me like a
let me go please
I need a release
this isn’t fair, you were always such a
tell me you love me
hold my face in your palms and then flee
being with you is like being with an
they say if you truly love something to let it go
did you know
that I loved you so?"
I’m already scared to leave.
I kissed myself along the shoulder
and down to my fingertips this morning
because you were too far away to reach -
and I’m not even gone yet.
I am so much older than I used to be,
and I think it is a good thing
except now I am scared to die
because I am probably closer to it.
I am more scared that you will go first.
‘Go’. Go first.
Like a gentle sailboat tied to the shore,
and you are just practising
and I am watching and smiling and waving from dry land.
You are just practising, and I am pressing down,
covering the wide smile you love so much with white knuckles.
I’m not gone yet. You aren’t gone yet.
You are just practising. I am not scared.
Except I am scared, and you are tearing down a mountain
and I am with you every crashing step of the way
until I’m not anymore
and when I’m not it’s only because I’m gone.
I am not scared.
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"Paint memories on my skin with yourself, so that I am a walking canvas who knows nothing more but what it means to be loved by you. Let me be your story; every shade and etching of darkness you have ever felt. Let me be a poster to shy your demons away. Let me be your billboard so the world is in awe of your presence, just like how Claude Monet’s paintings whisper the most picturesque scene. Allow me to be your gallery. Allow me to be your masterpiece."