The full moon approaches. I am raw with emotion. I am wild and inconsolable. My heart is crushed. Plush with want. Red. Red. Red. I want to see you with my fingertips. Skin on skin. Nails to flesh. Delicate. Criminal. I want to write poems on your body and then eat them one by one. I know you have sensed my anger. I have been screaming at you in my head like a crazy person. I want to take those words back if I can. I do believe in love, in our love, in my love, in your love. I want to fuck off this excess energy. To burn it all away. I want to set fire to you using only friction; the friction of our souls as they collide in dreams that trigger.
I dreamt that I travelled to you. I felt myself rise from the bed, move down the stairs, and then out into the cold night air. I saw the stars fly by me as I fell horizontally across the sky. I watched them melt under desire. I found myself crossing countries just to be with your for a moment in a white basement. I saw our faces together in a pane of glass, in a dark corner, and you held my eyes open as something invisible forced its way inside of me. Back in my bed you smoothed away my pain with your fingertips and I think I would have climaxed if I’d had a moment more. Is this how you feel when you travel to me?
You are quite literally pulling the soul out of my body. If we stay apart we are going to shake apart. Tug harder. Pop the stiches that hold me together and eat them one by one.