• you wrote me a story about dying i had nothing to say in return to be honest, i haven't been writing much most of it has been about you or nothing I'm not sure if there's a clear topic distinction when my bloodstream surges and electricity pulses through the ends of my fingers, i know my words on the page will stick shine black against an illumination we were real and beautiful and young and now I'm trying to start over i am in love again but it's not carefree i am cautious i question i prepare myself inside my head for the inevitable eventually, he will leave and maybe then you will come back or you will find someone else or we will both wander lost feeding on philosophies until we're both so lonely we just have to let it be i never imagined someone would call me intoxicating the me i created in my head matched the girl who laughed in front of you and i don't think this is true of anyone else maybe this summer I'll see you again and i know if i do just like last time my heart will break and my eyes will pour and everything in me will mesh until my head and your chest are one and the same and it will be fascinating at least until you leave then i'm not so sure how it will be me cleaning up all the wreckage of the aftermath would i throw away everything i have for you? you keep asking me to i'm not sure why i thought that ship had sailed on but regardless of you i have some self improvement to do so that maybe i can walk into a room and be perceived as intoxicating without the whole mess of falling in love

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