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Usually I know exactly what I'm going to say when I do this. Right now I don't. For some reason I'm just fucking .sick. of knowing exactly where I am all the time. You know? I don't feel like being abstract today either. I felt like calling you 'baby' today. I felt like it but I didn't, I smiled with my lips shut thick and didn't cry--less chance of illness-- because my mouth itched for you. I don't know if you saw the way my teeth and fingers numbingly clawed and grasped and pulled at nothing and I wondered at how anyone could be so fucking beautiful. Yeah, maybe it's my sexuality but maybe it's you. Just knowing that I'm the only one that can touch your hands without you shaking violently causes that urge, that aching desire to wrap my jaws around your soft thin lips when you smile at me. So I'll go now, and roll my eyes over your note and press my face against the paper and try to find your scent in the pages. God, I love you. No, I can't hold you without shaking;
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