I would take a sheet of paper

I would take a sheet of paper. And I would scribble. I would indent it with the marks of rebels of my thin wrists. I would scream into it how much I love you. How much I love to love you. And how much I hate to love you. I would think of you holding it, in your hand. Think of you smiling, at how silly this is. Because you love me too. And always have. And knew it since the moment I knew.  And I would think. Think of you holding it. And think of me. And think that I'm in love with you. And you don't see what to do. You'd think of how to turn me down. You'd think of a frown. And wonder. And I'd cry. And I'd tear it so you don't ever see it. Into tiny little pieces. And I'd Scream. And I'd still love you. And I'd come back and I’d gather the pieces. And I’d find them places, so they make sense. And I'd stick them back together. And make a letter abused and rejoined. Like a sad joke. A dark sense of humour. And I’d storm out. And I'd go to where you live. And I'd drop it in your mailbox. And I'd stare at it. And I'd want to take it back and run. Run faster than I ever have. But I'd not move, because I wouldn't be able to. And then I'd move. I'd go away. I'd go back to where I came from. And I'd go back to the mailbox. Everyday. Till I find it empty. And again. I'd go back to where I came from. And I'd wait. And I'd wait forever.

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