#gublercore

i need him like oxygen. it’s pathetic, i know how my lungs forget how to work when he’s not near, how my chest tightens like it’s punishing me for missing him again.

i keep ending up at his feet, hands shaking, voice cracking, and he doesn’t even have to tell me to stay. he just looks down, cold, distant and i still stay. i’d rather be kicked by him than touched by anyone else. i’d rather bleed for him than breathe without him.

i would sell my soul if that’s what he wanted. he could tell me to crawl into the dirt and i would, just to feel his eyes on me for one more second. i’d let him break me apart if it meant he had to touch me to do it.

if i’m too much, i’ll make myself less. i’ll bite my tongue until it bleeds. i’ll quiet every piece of me that screams for him. i’ll carve myself down to the bone until i fit perfectly into the space he never made for me.

we sat in the theater after everyone left. i leaned my head on his shoulder. he whispered: “you’re the kind of girl they try to write poems about but get too scared halfway through.”

he wasn’t in focus. but i could feel that he was looking at me like he’d waited lifetimes.

i asked him if he remembered me. he said:

“i used to draw your eyes before i knew they were real.”

when i woke up, i swore i could still smell his cologne.