if ever i push you away,
i don’t really mean to.
when i tell you i don’t want to talk about it
i do, i am just looking for the right words.
give me a minute, and if i can tell you; i will.
i try to be a struggling mix of real and
perfect at the same time.
at the moment,
i am working on the ratio.
when i get really quiet sometimes
it is because i have too much to say
i have thought of too many things to tell you
all at once
and i don’t know what to say first.
i get immaturely jealous of anyone
who gets to see you on a daily basis.
i miss you really easily.
but i also like that we can be
a p a r t
and we are both okay. space is good, too.
i love the way we love some of the
same things. and i love how
we love entirely different things.
my head is a complicated pile of thoughts,
and fears, and cravings, and dreams,
and this tangled nostalgia for the
past and, somehow, the future.
i am flawed and i am human and i am broken and
i am trying. i am one person and i am two
hands and i am one and i love you.
heart. and i am so glad you are here.
I forget where I originally saw this but as far as love letters go Ithink this is absolutely beautiful – we are, after all, only human and even the best of us are flawed.