If I’ve ever learned anything
in this place I call home,
it’s that love is more than
fleeting glances
and altruism is the loneliest place.

<p>These days seem like years and my head grows tired of all the talk. Talk, talk, talk. That&#8217;s all anyone ever does and it buzzes through my skull and my veins go cold and I lay here on this god forsaken bed with these terrible sheets and miss the days when I didn&#8217;t have to think so much, didn&#8217;t have to talk so much. <br/>
I&#8217;m eating myself alive.

But the taste of the guilt burn downs my throat and the anger clings to the roof of my mouth, bitter and choking. While I smile at you, friendly gestures that have become as routine as my morning cup of tea (two sugars, a splash of milk) and it all feels forced.

I hate feeling like I’m obligated to make everyone’s life easier and take care of them and do so much when I’m just so tired and hurting when they  don’t even make an effort to care for themselves. I’m tired. I’m angry. And I feel obligated. 

I’m stuck.

Some things are better left unsaid. You’ve fucking ruined everything. It’s so hard to look at you now, knowing the feelings you’ve poured out to me. I can’t deal with having your eyes on me. The guilt hasn’t left my body since that night, coiling around my throat and squeezing every time you smile. You ruined the ease of this relationship. And I can’t forgive you for that.

It’s in your lips and in your kiss. It’s in your touch and your fingertips. It’s all the things and other things that make you who you are and your eyes irresistable.

I like to know I’m right. And I want to be right about you. 

I think I’d like to kiss you. But I’d like to kiss a lot people, so don’t think too much into it. 

It still burns. Branding me with sadness that’s sticky sweet and coats my mouth. Clawing at too pale skin. Red and purple blooming across ivory and minuscule pulses under skin that’s too paper thin. It burns although your touch has long been gone, burns just as bright as the first time.