Unsent Messages

I want to hold you while you cry again, to kiss you birth mark and rest between your thighs, to bite your ear and tell our world I have no doubts in our crazy young 16 year old dreams to have eachother for life. I want that back.

I want you, in your tooth necklace and mother’s old scarf, to sit in front of me and tell me every mistake I made and how you’re disappointed so I can change it. Asking for a second chance is a lot, I know, but I also know how capable I am of loving you, it’s always been easy, I’m sorry I never made you feel as though it was.

Whatever that looks like I can do it, because I am committed to you for life.

I don’t know when we’ll talk, impatiently I wait, and go a little bit crazy in the process, but if you don’t want me anymore there’s nothing I can do but respect that. But I’ll let you know you’re so fucking impressive, you’re so lovely, intelligent, beautiful, more than that you express your individuality with such confidence it’s really admirable. I’ll let you know what I now know about myself, that my BPD is cureable, treatable, and won’t seep in the cracks of our arguments anymore. I’ll let you know that when you go to Toronto my beat up 2012 mitsubishi is going to have my ass imprinted on the drivers seat with how much I drive to come see you.

Somewhere along the way, I got comfortable, and stopped going the lengths to love you loudly. I made mistakes, I own up to them, nasty and imperfect. You did to, I forgive you for them, those cruel and scary, because I know you, I know how your brain works, I know what you’ve been through, and I know how you love; it’s all beautiful.

Please, I ask with earnestness and ease, for another chance at your love. I want to make you feel seen, make you feel happy, experience the uncerrainty of upcoming adulthood with you. I think we can do it, love each other again, I think we could really make it work.