(no subject)
I think of you always, lately even more so, you are on the edges, I can see your shadow, dashing your fingers over my skin as I sleep and lining up all the ghosts from my past. I don't know who I write about, there are so many faces of this man I have loved and hated, who I have guided towards death, who I have slept with and moved against; you sliding over me, pressing me like a flower between the pages of my story. I have so many versions of you and so many tastes left on my lips when I speak all of your different names. I still want to be with you, deep down I always still want to be with you, though you've destroyed me so many times. I should have layed beside the lavender they placed along your pillow and never left. I should never have left.