I'm tired of burning my love letters

I need this to happen quickly. 

Whatever will put me away - lock me inside a wooden box, forever entrapped and hidden. Dark, cold, in a stasis I shall never wake. 

Maybe this is how I wanted it to be since the first time I opened my eyes, since my skin felt the uneven air around me. 

Ever since body and mind connected to recognize that I have entered into a turbulent ecosystem with little chance of forgiveness, and all the survival one could ask for. 

Bones stripped clean, littering miles of dry earth. 

She doesn't need what she wants. Mortal, only having so much time, she lets her foot bleed through to get a morsel of understanding. 

Who do you bleed for? Who do you stand to meet?

If there is a cause for the heart to beat - it does, no matter what. Any living creature is born with the sole purpose to stay alive for the amount of time needed. 

The only parts we keep for the entirely of our lives is our survival. The urge, the drum, the warmth of life.

We are owners of so little. Such as our tears, best not waste  them. 

I meet at the crossroad of love and despair. Somedays the light hits just right where the two blend into one beautiful, horrific monster of a man that holds me in just the right way. 

Those precious hours of transcendence from the human body, surrounded by welcoming darkness, having the chance of a lifetime to participate in the dance of... love? 

Love. Such an odd word. It tastes like plastic on my tongue. 

I've been burned and scraped and hit so many times before by this "love" that the word sends an eerie wave down my spine. 

Yet, I wish to not leave this man, as he does not want to leave me. Is love a name for wanting to linger? 

Wanting to walk just a bit slower down your hallways, graze my fingers along your walls, gaze at your world. 

What I yearn, you shine. And that is why I cherish your heart the most. Your mind is a godsend, a beautiful machine. 

There are days where I an convinced that hell is other people. My trust cannot be so freely passed around. 

No, it is much worse. Hell is without other people. 

Hell is absent of the mirror - the other. I would no longer be able to wonder in his eyes, or anyone else.