It's like she has this big beautiful flower, and she's just plucking the petals off it, and dropping them, and I'm sitting underneath trying to catch them all, but they're coming too fast and my palms are shrinking, and suddenly they stop and I look up, and you're gone.
And now I'm lying in a bed of the petals, but there's something poking into my back; they've turned into thorns. I look around for you, and them, but all there are are hands. I try to reach out for them, and link fingers, but they're too far away and they're moving, so I keep missing, and my fingers just continue to glide through time and space.
And all I want is something to hold onto, something to smell. Nobody is here and I'm scared, but I'm trying to be brave. I have to. I don't want to miss you anymore. I don't want to need you anymore. I don't want to need something to be something.
I want to keep some of this inside me for once so I'm not just empty. So don't touch me. Don't try to make me talk. Or I'll run. Again. And this time I don't want to leave. I want to be here and I want to like being here.
But that doesn't mean I want you to leave.