hold me
you and i are nothing anymore, that’s what i’ve figured out from talking you through an abscense of uppers just a night ago. we’re nothing, we’re no one. you: i’m not even sure that we should talk anymore. and i won’t have that so i come to see you and there we are on your bed sprawled out touching every inch of it except for one inch of space that seperates you from me. and this is more air between us than there has been in weeks: when you first met me you were touching me. your hand slides over to my arm and you touch the fleshy part on the top part of my arm where some store muscle. i break down. don’t cry. don’t cry. this is the only time in a month and a half that i’ve felt okay. just don’t cry. but its been so long since i’ve felt you and even longer since i’ve cried and so i cry. me: i love you. i’ve just been so lost without you and you: but i’ve found you again?