Freudian Romantics Sarah Licht
Tell me all the secrets that lie between eyes drifting to dorm room ceilings, counting cracks in plaster like lost chances, another heart lost to the wilderness. Devoured by wolves or perhaps you could only dream of such romance. You tell me pain is the only proof of existence, the longing we feel in absence, the sharp thorn of feeling your chest burst with nothing to spill from it. Fill me with sorrow like a sponge, and let me carry all the stories of love struck down over a cafeteria salad bar, embraces you hardly knew were the last. Allow me the chance to see what you save for midnight journal entries when the world outside can hardly recognize your face. But never wring me out. No, I want you to fester within me. Filthy and alive and existing until there is no space where you end and I begin. Until then, the blankets between us will suffice, ligaments holding fragments together.
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