Love. This is love. You helped me to discover me. I'm not going to edit this. This may not make sense. Great love doesn't need to. Somewhere in all this commotion, I forgot how to create. Maybe I forgot the way your elbows touch your thighs when you curl onto my lap. Maybe I forgot the way you wear those pearls. Or the way your shoulder blade hugs my thumb while I hold you. You need me. It's not vain. I am you. Most lack the ability to grasp that concept. They've also never felt the vibrations of your footsteps on wood floors. And if they have...heh, they never appreciated it. Appreciate you, the way I appreciate us. Don't cry. There is no greater love. It will be alright. There's no need to edit this. We've pasted pieces of our past....cut details. We've become us. This is it. Droppin' 2 albums without fear of failure. 2 sheep. This is Shrimply Divine nail polish. My shelter from real life. Where I can live under your nails and let go of myself. You wear my sweats so well...you wear my sweat so well. You wear...me...so well.I imagine you...heh, us...amalgamated in our own surreal dream. Each strand of your hair preparing for the civil war created by Sundays. You won't understand. And I'm content with that. These are my triggers once I've lost everything. Do you love me? (nod) "do you know?"
How much can one learn from love? We're poetry in motion. They don't appreciate it. They never have. That's why we laugh. Do you see me in the stars. I'm a lunatic with conviction.
R U still down?
This is love resurrected. A volcano reinhabited. This is real.