That momentary thought that cutting my hand and feeling that sharp cold steel, the pain blossoming crimson. That would be better than not holding you.
I was doing so good yesterday, then my brain betrayed me and I dreamed of you. The feel of your skin, the taste of you, your short sharp gasps. All laid out and preserved in my brain, false memories of something never occurred.
So today, when faced with you in the world, I must confront again your lack of interest. Something I thought I had a handle on. But not so much it turns out. I would be telling friends this, but I don’t want advice. I just want someone to hold.
Pelgris 