I wrote this last year, and I don't even know who it's about. But now I can feel it 10x more.
He makes me feel ill. The ill that didn't start ill, but ended that way. The ill that started with tickles and unwinding, gut-wrenching butterflies that could no longer be bared in an enjoyable notion. The ill that would subside if only he left my every thought.
He won't leave my every thought.
He won't leave my every thought.