what have you done?

did your mother never warn you about ghosts? some of us are shadows of rain clouds, well versed in the art of haunting. these are the hearts you break with grace, so when the rain follows you, the fall is just a memory.

what have you done, my sweetest child? your careless stumble, finding me, orbiting me, eating your dreams, nothing else is mattering- matter vs other matter vs other minds. some conversations are endless, some silences the same. oh god, what have you done?

phoebe is singing ‘lose your faith in me’, i’m kissing you so i don't cry again.

when i’m between your legs, i don't hear half the thing you murmur up in your head’s clouds, losing yourself in the feeling. but i know you can hear my thoughts, it's all on the tip of my tongue.

hours earlier, fistful of your non chalant t-shirt’s neck twisted in my hands, pulling you closer, knuckles on your throat, i begged you to stay. but you didn't listen, you only hear the worst parts. i only hear the best parts. i believe you. you are still trying to.

but it's not fair to hold that against you, not when i believe you. what is action but the trying? what is having but the wanting? i keep wondering why until i start wondering how. how did you come to want me? some spell i cast? some force greater than your limbs? do you know what you have done to us?

how when we can bear to look at each other- there's something that looks like faith in your eyes. you don't need to say a word or reach for me, i’ll know what you mean when i hold your gaze. we're locked in where our feet touch the ground. we're fleeting at our fingertips.

for the first time, i don't want to follow the words out of this. can i follow your love instead? when you call me beautiful or tell me you love me or just touch me, it has washed over me like a wave, rearranged me. i believe you before i can even think about it. but a lot of trust is a function of how well i know you and your words. and in how well you know me, i trust the way you see me.

you confront me with the shame. some of it, the world's, that made us wait. some of it mine, in waiting. and god fucking dammit fetch the bolt cutters, im splayed out on the chopping board, and this is all i have ever wanted- to be loved by you.

so what have you done? you have given my dreams form. somewhere to go when i want to disappear. i have learnt to ask to be held. to let the hope of a lifetime fuel a night. it's not god, not really, not faith, not magic, not exactly. it's a well kept secret, baby. and thank you for keeping it. i’ll keep it too.