Maybe I could've loved you more if I'd met your mother I just wish someone would ask about my mother
baby, baby, tell me do, tell me true, do you miss me? The wind and my hand in your hair have left you like a beacon forsaken for the dawn, everything I taste tastes of bubblegum, I say I will not cry, I say you and I both know there is no point in crying. Sometimes I'm sick of this, all I want is something all-encompassing, something eternal. I wish I could unmeet some people, untouch some people, these e-mails I'm sending and receiving, I kind of cringe when I think of the people with the explicit .gifs of themselves. Let me tell you a secret: everyone's as scared as you are. Let me tell you another: when I love something most I try to take it away and hide it, this happens mostly with songs, I try to protect it from careless listens and people masturbating to their abusive ex to it, maybe it's not a secret after all. You can love something without owning it, but can you own something without starting to love it, without feeling the emptiness when it's away? I just want to write some poetry, baby. I just want to get lost somewhere. Let's uninvite everyone and prepare an elaborate meal together and eat it all up very slowly.