I can’t sleep.
My favorite things have grown sour.
My wrists bloom crimson.
I don’t eat.
I’m alone in crowds of people.
There’s only emptiness.
I could tell you.
Thump
We could be everything, forever.
Thump
I could sleep in your arms, after lifetimes of stargazing.
Thump
I could trace your face, with graceful fingers.
Thump
It could be me and you, against everyone else.
Thump
I could finally be happy again.
Thump
Because I finally got it off my chest
I’m in love with my best friend.
