acacia blossom

it is late at night and i am struggling to fall asleep,

the thought of you plaguing my mind with no medicine to dull my symptoms.

your words swim into the depths of my brain like infection seeps into a wound,

one i keep tearing wide open so you'll crawl back in again.

you told me once that you wished for someone to write something heartfelt about you,

and i think back to every single love letter i have ever scribbled

in between the lines of our conversations, 

and the teeth growing on my heart dig into the squishy meat and let the blood stream down.

it seems that my postage never reaches the recipient. 

hand-delivering mail is strenuous, but to fulfill a simple wish of yours means more to me

than if i were to achieve all of my dreams in the same day.

the back-and-forth struggle in my mind to understand how you feel 

(and how you'd feel if you knew my love for you was more than you bargained for)

keeps me wanting to breathe, to see another day and hope the struggle finally ends.

the soft words of affirmation and endless nights you waste away on my repulsive mind

are the best part of my day, even with the guilt that digs inside my eyesockets

and makes itself a nest. 

you see every physical and mental wound i have and you stitch them together again,

only for me to immediately rip them back out and pray that you'll never stop fixing them.

you must be so tired, but you never show it. never. it scares me how patient you are.

virtues are for angels, not humans. i can only make one assumption based on that.

the moments we share replay every waking second we are apart, 

yet the evidence never seems to be enough.

how do you truly feel about me?

in my mind i get my hopes up, because you call me names that never seem

truly friendly.

sweetheart and sunshine, when i'm neither sweet nor like the sun.

in fact, you are kinder and more bright than anybody else could ever imagine being.

i believe there is a chance you'll let me be the one to love you,

to write those long love poems you want,

to sing your praise and listen to you whenever you want the attention.

that hope gets shredded by your very fangs

with every reminder that we are just friends.

just friends.

i am exhausted and your motives confuse me, 

but i love you. more than anything else i feel.

more than the paranoia, more than the depravity, more than every mental spiral.

i hope this, just like every other letter, gets lost.

i hope you never get it. maybe i'll just set it in the drawer beside my bed

and let it rot, like we will one day,

because i cannot bear to lose you over my excessive devotion and desire.

i press a wax seal over the envelope and throw it in the drawer with all the rest.