there's no flame of desire.

Dear you,

The sunrise wasn't very bright, but somehow I felt it lighting something inside me.

Or maybe nothing was lit, but the stirring that's been starting for months is growing larger. I worry soon it may break me apart at the seams, ripping me into shreds from the inside out, outside in, up around and down, torn into nonexistence.

I'm not sure what is stirring, exactly. That's how all these monsters called emotions seem to start out with me. Unknown and unsure, they confuse me and I second guess them until they die and it's too late for corrections. (Always too late.)

I haven't slept yet and it's 8:43am and you're probably asleep by now and why am I still awake.

I don't know what words I even have anymore. My hands are empty. My brain is empty. My insides are full of something I don't understand.

Maybe I'm full of moths (moths instead of butterflies, never butterflies, no butterflies).

The clouds were pink and I used to be feeling pink but today I felt a disconnect between myself and the pink. And I know it's just a color and I know I need to actually sleep soon but there are a lot of things inside me begging to be released even if they are wild and untamed and make no sense once strung together into a semblance of words.

All I know is there was a sunrise and too much light and not enough blankets and I wanted to grab your fingers and hold and hold and hold and I hate letting go but I don't ever know how you'll react to my touch.

I just like when you were tickling my feet even if I hate to be tickled because it didn't feel bad only nice and you're really nice and what am I even doing we're just friends but I liked when you traced my scars.

I guess you could call this fixation with your skin or you could call this a need to assure myself you're existing on the same plane as me.

Your eyes are two different colors and I am nine different colors and a thousand different shades and I don't want to be anything more than friends I just know I like it more when you touch me than when I touch you.

Our friendship is really fucked up because it's far from normal but it's exactly what I've always wanted.

I'm sorry if I mess this up and I'm sorry if you're expecting more because I can't give anything besides this and sunrises and small blankets that don't keep us warm enough.

I'm having trouble deciding where any lines between us are and I'm having trouble believing you see me in any way the same way I see you.

I promise I won't fall in love with you, so please just let me keep being weird and needing to reassure myself of your physical existence.

I'm sorry this doesn't make sense and I'm sorry I am so many different colors.

Sincerely,
xx
Blue