I think I threw myself at you because I wanted to feel something,
something either than pain.
Maybe we weren't meant to be, but maybe love will win, regardless, in the end.
I can't tell you how much I want you to touch me and kiss me in the rain, so that I may begin to feel again, a feeling that runs freely through my veins.
500 and 52 hours in, my mind begins to form puddles of doubts that make my shoes wet, a wet that seeps into my socks, and makes my feet cold and uncomfortable to walk upon this ground, but I wish for nothing but you to prove to me that this won't last long, and I've made a decision I shouldn't regret.
I don't want to close my eyes upon an argument left unsaid, because I know not talking only plants seeds for more sleepless nights on my already crooked bed.
So please show me something I can't walk away from, right now it feels like we're trying to start a fire in the middle of the rain, and I know you think I'm difficult to posses because I only think of moments where it would be suitable to run, but I want you to know that I want the flame to burn longer than the pain in my chest and head.
