You are a phone call at 4 am
the kind I pull the blankets over my head to ignore.
I miss you so much that I want nothing to do with you.
When I hear your voice that late at night I can feel the skeletons in my closet sticking their bony fingers out from underneath the door trying to grab at me.
I hate you sometimes, for making me do this on my own,
and I’m sorry that I don’t answer the phone but I’m too busy bashing my head against the receiver trying not to say anything too terrible.
I’d tell you I love you, but I’m afraid it’s gotten more complicated than that.
I’d tell you to go away, but you already have.
Only we two are one, not you and night,
Nor night and I, but you and I, alone,
So much alone, so deeply by ourselves,
So far beyond the casual solitudes,
That night is only the background of our selves,
Supremely true each to its separate self,
In the pale light that each upon the other throws.
have some fancy as fuck cute french names because it just clicked with me that given new verse (even though it no longer exists because i REFUSE) france is probably presleigh’s dream locale and also their pretend Secret Garden and pres probably learned lots of french while he was gone that he taught her and they probably have gone on trips together there now and yeah goodbye i think maybe this is the way we should go