I want to tell you about how
my heart slams against my ribs—how
the tips of your fingers playing against my knuckles
sends a shiver down my neck.
No, that’s too much.

Let me start over.

I want to tell you lots of things, everything, really.
When was the last time you were called beautiful?
I want to tell you that I know what it feels like, I understand
the black of the bottomless pit. I understand how
in one single second you forget who you are—like
walking into a room and forgetting why you’re there in the first place.
But then I meet someone like you, and I’m reminded.

You are so much more than the darkness.

I’m not really sure how to do this. How do I tell you
I want you in my life forever? We could
be quiet and I could read my books and you could just look
at me with your eager eyes, and I’d be quite satisfied.
I want to tell you how much I adore the
breath that escapes your lips and the thoughts
that swim through your head.

I want to tell you how
my heart slams against my ribs—
no, that’s too much.