Pansy

I crave you. Even as the bittersweet thought of leaving claws its way up my aorta, tearing its path from my heart to my head, my blood bleeds only for you. I used to be so inconsistent-- strongly fragile, and irreplaceably alone; A cog in a machine that had broken long ago, with the shattered remains casting a mere shadow upon the purpose it was meant to serve. I was a friendly reminder that perhaps the happy ending does not wrap things up in a neat little bow, a perfect package ready for post, but rather ending in an entangled web of ribbon, discarded and used only for the regifts and the rejects.  But then you came along, and despite the messy exterior and disorganized interior, despite the certain fatality of life, you found beauty in the chaos and straightened my web of futures unforetold. You made me feel lovely and whole, and you shined the tarnished outside of perfectly good silverware that had been left for rust a long time ago. I love you. Even the cloyingly crisp lace of the words feels sappy and sweet in my mouth, and although they stick and seem to glue my teeth shut like molasses, they ooze out of the edges, dripping from my head back into my heart. You’ve breathed life into my veins and made me laugh the way that I gave up laughing so long ago. I love you. Words are thrown around so easily these days. Tossed into the air to be soaked up by the sun, as invisible and light as nitrogen in the atmosphere, and as abundant as well. But these words weigh me down with their burden, begging to be released into your mouth, into your mind. They need to free themselves from the cage my heart has built for them into the home your heart has made for them. I love you. I crave you. I need you. I’m yours.