I feel the subtlety of what is going to happen once our fingers touch, entwine. Its hues of grey are settling in the back of my mind, wandering through dark drawers and keyholes full of rust. Freeze everything you said to me that night when we didn’t speak, but held. I’m going to frame it along side other images caught by tiny webs between the ever changing colours of my eyes, like intakes of breath waiting on my lips. Hold onto this when you realize what I tried to tell you. Do not stop remembering.

You came to me, you asked me how to love, would you, and could you ever? I had loved, you were sure of it. And I have. I’m not the kind to keep a thing like warmth hidden, not the growing expenses of a looming daydream, of the things we’d want to name and feel. Make the abstract come true. Reach out your hand, into the dark and dare to hold on.I never knew that to you, this would only be a looming monster.

I feel the subtlety of the change now, of every new facet I uncover in the lines of your hands while you’re not even aware of being studied. Somebody who fears this has either nothing to show or hides his own face in shame. Which are you? Does it even matter?

Lock down. Close your hinging doors. Throw away your words, discard the matters. Find the way out, the last loophole. Excuse yourself; tell me that I’ve got it wrong.

 

Hold onto this when you realize what I tried to tell you.

Never again be afraid of being loved.

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