…and here we are again,
the lost
and the found.

why can’t i pretend when i’m talking to you?

even then,
there is
some kind
of soothing, gentle
echo
in your words.
you are more
than this.
you are different
and i am
afraid.

for all my complaints, you won’t go away.

i
do not
want
to be
your pain.

why do i worry that this is the case?

there is
something there,
something else,
something beautiful.
i cannot
describe it.

i do not want to acknowledge this.

your presence
leaves me terrified.
i am used
to being alone.

so why do i feel like i can’t live without you?

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