I want to flow from my own fingertips,
hang in the air, a final chord.
I want to break apart into a million pieces,
dance away in the nightime's wind.
I want to be held as I split and crack,
try to meld me together one last time.

I want to burst and implode and evaporate.
And I want you to know that I'm sorry.

Because you're smart, right?
Pretty charming, right?
Love the way the wind whispers and the rain cries.
Love things other than what Girls like.

Because you like bare face, right?
They're a carbon copy, right?
But you, you're a gem in the rough, undiscovered.
You, you're a lifeform with all of nature's secrets.
You, you're much better. [Right?]

You, you're different than those other Girls,

Right?

I paint myself blue and yellow and fiery red.
I glow in the dark and echo with each step.

Please look.

I channel the sea's gasp and bloom pansies with my breath.
I carry the sun on my shoulders, feet deep in snow.

Please hold my gaze.

You think me crazy, a child in older skin, a neon sign in a silent night.

You don't understand. I'm just trying to make you stay.

I remember the sky,
the way it bruised that night,
a deep blue and purple and indigo.
You reached up, your smile widened,
and your hand drew back those same shades.
Your fingertips were ink-stained,
a small sky on each finger.

I reached up and grasped only air.

it is not a solution i long for,
it is a friend, a shoulder, a hand to squeeze mine.
and it is not answers i crave,
it is warmth, softness, an anchor to the Earth.

you don't have to understand me,
or the shadows that cling to my silhouette,
just be a light in my darkness,
and that is more than enough.

and it is a quiet kind of love we share,
a ghost of a lifetime between us.
it is solid and soft, a force like the sea,
gentle as summer breeze.
it is careful and measured, an ebbing and flowing, waning and waxing.
it is like breathing, to love you, and I will, long after my lungs give out.

I didn't want you,
I wanted love
and I have realised
that they are not the same thing.

You were a mould
that I poured my insecurities in,
a computer I tried to program.

But you are a sky,
stormy and clear and rainy and warm.

You were so blue when I longed for red.

I didn't want you.
I wanted the thought.