Building – BP Valenzuela

Today’s soundtrack.

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
e.e. cummings

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.

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