Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I’m gazing at a distant star.
It’s dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago.
Maybe the star doesn’t even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.
Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to
museums, and parks, and monuments,
and kiss you in every beautiful
place, so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting me
like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most
beautiful way possible.
And when I leave
you will finally understand,
why storms are named after people.
It’s not about the kissing, holding hands, the dates, the sex, and showing off. It’s about being with someone who makes you happy in a way that no one else can. It’s about being with someone who accepts you and your weirdness. It’s about being yourself around them and they can be their self around you.