almost

“you can hold my hand but please don’t get mad when my fingers crumble between yours and leave dust under your nails that you can’t get out no matter how many times you wash your hands and you can kiss me and I’ll lean into you and close my eyes and tangle my tongue with yours but try not to stop when things get salty and you start tasting tears dripping into your open mouth and if you’re going to tell me you love me, don’t walk out when I start rambling on about some story of the time I was 16 and broke my wrist on metal that was supposed to feel like love but really just felt cold and kissed like hospital bills in response to you sleep next to me and wake me when I start screaming. Please don’t let your headache and sleep drenched eyes seep into your smile when you say my name”