you lay with me on the cold sheet of dry ice youâve always hated. your hand finds its way to mine, and i hold on for dear life. i crane my neck to look at you, and wonder just how long itâs going to take before this - this moment - is something i could lose. see, thatâs the thing, you know. because my wolf teeth and monster ribs always ruin everything i want to keep and cherish. they snap over guardrails and the bridges where i look for sea creatures under shadow banks. they canât seem to stop shaking. my body hasnât been in tact.
the world is ending in my palms, and i tell you, âi just want to hold you for a second.â
you tell me, âthen, do it.â
but thatâs the thing, you know? somehow, moon streams are so fragile that they break apart in my earthy palms. iâve spent a year trying to mend myself together, but my storms are only wrecking me apart. i keep counting days on your fingers because mine have too little time, and my hands arenât as patient.
one time, i asked you if you wanted to be with me, if this actually meant something, if what youâd kissed into my lips werenât bullshit. and you tell me, âof course. of course i want to be with you.â
but see, youâre not, you know? and itâs like iâm waiting for snow even though the damp summer heat is evident on my cheeks. itâs like iâm waiting for hail even if itâs not raining.
âthen, why arenât you?â
you swallow hard, the words pebbles down your teeth. you say, âiâm just not ready.â
i donât say anything, but i keep thinking about it. if you only chose me, i wouldnât have hurt you the way she did.
i am the tombstone stuck in your throat when you get sick, and she is the moonlight spring that you miss.
even when i want you so badly, iâm only ever going to get this.
âHe says he hates her for what she did to him, but I can't help but notice the tone he uses, the way he talks about her, the way he says her name every time he tells me something about her.â || m.a.p.
