what is in your hands?
god, i'm lost.
just from three years ago, just three years, we only got those years together.
help me, now, i just want to hold his hand, feel his breath, see him smile. how far we walked together, through sidewalks of snow and lost cigarettes. how cold boston felt with our shoulders braced against the wind. how warm it was to turn our faces to the sun of a new orleans sky.
we're closing in on ourselves, all of me and all of you. when i'm by myself, i'm so cold.
making sense doesn't mean much any more, it's all just how he's gone. this, growing ever wider, desire to push pull lift myself off the edge and into you.
discover my tattoos and scars, like my skin is something new. this motive, this problem, falls so easily out of my hands and onto you.
open up the world and hand it to me, show me something new, give me something that will make me smile harder, and take it away so that i cry just the same.
i dream awkward situations that make me sweat, and i wake up knowing that you're all better as moments in my head.
