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it is cruel to think that we started truly existing in unison.
your bones are older than mine
your fa├žade is young
your hundred and four eyes only opened last month
i think we're in love.
or i'd like to think that.

does it burn to have eyes on you?
to have hundreds of hands touching you
despite being so far from ready? despite not asking?
selfishly; i lay awake with an everyday-dreamt-memory
as though those hands were all my own.
you could hurt the same as me.
there are enclosures outside you,
there are enclosures within you,
the most dangerous girl along the dead skyline,
tape marking your influence - your would-be victims.

it is fall now, having known you since only winter.
there are no muscles to fill you, but perfect skin leaves a sheen over your terminal bones.
i don't want to belong to you, nor do i want you for myself.
holding onto your breathing form would bring me to familiar tears.
you are altogether too much. i feel unwell in my heart when we meet eyes.

someday, i will know somebody that belongs to you.
intimately, and obsessively, i will know them all.
what they have, and what you will have become.
i think i hate you.

there are three layers left of what made me fall in love with you.
i miss you every day. i need you distant, i need you unimportant.
when winter comes, i will break and you will stand.
your mind will never change. you will not look at me.
i hope someday you are killed, and i am let to watch.
i hope i can put a hand through your bleeding body.
not that you could bleed. not that you will ever die.

you will be finished by the time my signal is received.
please dream about me.
goodnight, i love you.

this message is not about you.

bg credits to hellsinker