I wake up and the first thing that hits me is the song you showed me weeks ago with the upbeat melody and the lyrics that sound like a letter i could’ve written you in my sleep.

I breath in and smell that cologne you wear on mondays and that songs chorus repeats in my head and i sigh. I sigh because you’re streets away and  wake up every morning thinking of your day or last night and not the way i cut my hair for you to notice.

I spread my love tight and too thin like a twin sized sheet on a queen sized mattress. The corners pop and pull and i tug too hard. The edges rip. The seams split, falling through my fingers.

I’m exhausted anymore. I wake sweaty and confused and for a brief moment i forget that you and your stupidly long eyelashes exist and the way my whole room smells after you shower doesn’t haunt the little hairs in my nose.

I want you to crack open. Crack open your smile and realize that it doesn’t have to be scary. I’ll leave my nightlight on and keep my masks in the hall closet so i don’t scare you away. But you have to walk through the front door and see what i look like. Look.

I walk home at the end of the day to write about you and listen to music about you and dream of your hands and you walk home and fall asleep: hard and silent and dreamless.

I want to crawl in bed and feel your toothpaste breath on my forehead. I want your eyes to flutter at 2am when i’m wide awake because i’m cold. I’m cold but i’ll fall asleep if your soft subconscious hand is on my waist.

I die. You siphon your hair through your fingers and look dead into my eyes and i die.


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