it’s this innate hunger that rumbles through my stomach and rattles my ribcage which shatters through my heart until i am internally bleeding, and i just want to lay with you with the blinds closed and your shirt on the floor, and mine over my head. i want to scratch that itch, i want to pull that trigger, i want you to kiss me and forget about what’s behind the blinds, the window; behind those walls, and that world. i want you to straddle me and kiss my stomach and blow on my belly button, and i want to be so ashamed right now for confessing this to you, but i’m not because we’ve been so naked together without stripping one shred of fabric. you and me, we were like halves of a strawberry, you could always see our hearts shaped and matching each other. and sometimes i dream of the world ending and we never get a chance to say what we should’ve kept saying, we should’ve kept saying it, because when i woke up i didn’t get to tell you, and i want to tell you now, in person, only i have, and you don’t feel the same way, and it’s the worst kind of hunger, wanting someone, loving someone, needing someone, who won’t reciprocate. who won’t love you. who doesn’t want, or need you.
want me. need me. love me. again. please, i’m so hungry without you.