it feels as though everyday i’m writing of you and the pain you create do i mean you? or is it simply the collection of all of the yous put together? is it one or is it many? you feign interest ask me about my day and for a moment i believe you care longer than a moment, really longer than I'd care to admit you give me a drop of water, and i sort through it as if i have the entire ocean to examine i didn't know that healing was actually quite lonely on an island, stranded knowing that learning how to build a fire is necessary but desperately wishing that the person who taught you what a flame was could just be there showing you grace showing you the most genuine and truthful love i could muster pulling inside the depths of my body, just to give away everything inside to you place your hand inside my ribcage tug at my heart a little bit more and it's all yours in return i get nothing your empty stares and dry messages looking at me as though i’m someone you knew a lifetime ago
Worship Me | Max Senter
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