I tried to fold my love into paper birds. One for every "I love you" lost.
I'd send them out flying through my windows past midnight. They circled the streets I've always known like apparitions, floating towards any light without ever really knowing why.
I want to know.
My love breathes through ripped pages and half-lit street lamps that light up nothing in particular.
I could squint my eyes for hours without ever really making sense of anything. Something real! Something wrong! My love, you and I? What are we.
I want to know.
Some nights, that's the only thing that keeps me.
Love me, love me, love me! I could never rip enough pages to fit it all in.
Love me, but be gentle in your cruelty. Consume me outside and in. Let my crimson love stain your lips and drip from your chin so it can become the blood I use to write these pages.
This half-collapsed heaven in my head. It doesn't make any sense, but I can try. I can try to write it down.
I love you.