i can sit all day
and write about you.
all about you, my love.
all that has constructed you
to be what you are for me.
all that i have wished for you to be
and known you to be,
all for my own convenience.
but i know,
you won't ever know any of it
any of this
or
any of me.
and i also know
that it isn't even
the worst part.
i'm simply getting more and more and more
attached to you through this.
and losing my feeble grasps on reality every moment
with every word.
i love you so much, T
YOU ARE READING
y o u
Poetryi've never breathed more, as i have around you, but breathing in the same air as you, was suffocating enough to make me want to stop. but, love, you can't just stop breathing like that, can you? [in which, she writes letters to him, letters tha...
