your body is constructed in a certain way, and it's beautiful.
you can change it, if you please.
but it's nice looking at you, just you
your body, your bones, your skin
the hair on your nose, your blemishes, all the way to the tip of your eyelashes.
and i love you, just like that.
any way you are, you're the sun in my sky, the stars in the night, the cave to my exploring, you're the glass of wine after work, the stress reliever of all sorts, the music in my head that plays over and over, my i excitement for waking up in the morning, the rushing waves in my ocean, you're the air i breathe so passionately until my chest feels tight and god i need you like an addict needs his daily fix. i love you.
and there's two kinds of love, they say.
but that's bullshit because with you i feel things i don't know how to explain
but if i had to say, you are both the two kinds of love itself.
but im not sure you even love yourself. or even me.
and that burns me. your weekly cigarette placed against my heart, your alcohol chugged down to make you feel better feels like acid when you tell me you need it, and my head is such a confusing place because i need you, just like you need those. but do you need me? am i your drug? am i another guilty pleasure to make you feel better?
because you're all of those things to me. you're everything to me, and i feel so insignificant. i'm a topic that keeps getting brought up but you still ignore. i'm just the graffitied walls of an abandoned house, a broken car window, dead grass in a field, a dusty old bookshelf, another dead squirrel in the road. you make me feel infinity when im with you, but you treat me like shit. you reduce me down so low, i feel like i am actually the dirt you stomp on without a care, just a small gust of wind. i'm a nuisance. i'm your car that won't start, your favorite CD that keeps skipping, the constant headache, the annoying toe stub.
i love you in every single way, but man, fuck you.
