i've tried to write about anything else, i've tried to write about how plants push through the soil and it still feels like i'm writing about sliding my fingers between yours, i have tried to write about church and instead talked about the temple of your solar plexus, i have tried to write about the twenty six icicles outside of my window and how they look like they're so in love with the ground that they will melt themselves trying to touch it and instead i write about how it feels being apart from you, the fragile glass of my heart growing thin as i try to reach across the distance.
-r.i.d, on tumblr.