woostering: (phoenix)

I hate that what you do to me

is a burden to you

But not saying it

Doesn’t make me feel

any less

Even if it allows you to—

to what? Pretend I don’t?

Pretend I haven’t cried

at the thought of touching your hair?

The thought, how pathetic

holding your hand

or burying my head against your shoulder

because you are real

Yes I feel that.

Yes I really could

stare at you for hours

beacause I would be looking at you

I know that makes no sense to you

But it is you or blankness.

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woostering

May 2014

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