darling, am I not who you fell in love with, with half moon eyes and tears crumbling at a cliffs edge. darling, can you not watch whilst I pull at the threads that keep this package oh, so neat. darling, darling I love you, I’m just not quite as wholesome as that delight you first met, my love, my only. I am fragile as a vintage button, holding on to sanity on a mouldy, bleeding thread. darling, hold me closer and tell me all the lies that I need. tell me darling that I am breaking all of the boundaries set aside for those with melancholia and this chronic sadness. tell me my love, that I will not break our children with this instability. tell me love that I am not contagious, tell me that I don’t make you regret the day that you stumbled across this swollen heart and bird cage chest. brittle, the hatred of myself rattles around these putrid veins as the rain pours upon porcelain cheeks.
I’m sorry that you were intrigued by skin like snow and a lion’s mane of sunshine, that blue eyes lit up like christmas drew you across our subtle horizons. I’m sorry that my insides and outsides are a paradox. darling, though, dearest darling, I love you with these moon tears and threaded sunshine. just don’t watch whilst I decay, please darling.