Mayflower97

i watch you tread gently on the edges of yourself, remaining in the penumbra between all and nothing - a sub-atomic mystery unable to be solved. yesterday, you couldn't decide whether to fuse or fold back together and instead curled inward underneath your own spine like a rose crushed in a fist, only the fist forgot to show up and roses don't grow in hospitals. some days, love, you are almost radioactive enough to be a half-life. i think this is the saddest thing of all because on those days i find myself believing you might just make it.