You run away every time I get a little bit close.
You run at the notion of being anywhere with anyone who gives a fuck.
My Love is Building a Building
my love is building a building around you,a frail slippery house,a strong fragile house (beginning at the singular beginning of your smile)a skillful uncouth prison,a precise clumsy prison(building thatandthis into Thus, Around the reckless magic of your mouth) my love is building a magic,a discrete tower of magic and(as i guess) when Farmer Death(whom fairies hate)shall crumble the mouth-flower fleet He'll not my tower, laborious, casual where the surrounding smiles hangs breathless
He was the one who first gave me a taste of unexplainable hurt. Who made me cry seconds after we simply said ‘hi.’ He taught me how to love and care and hurt and cry.
And yet I still try.
(I’m waiting for life to teach me how much of a mistake all of this is. But for now, here I go.)
But don’t fall in love with me. Please don’t fall in love with me.