I love
(all the time).

It is exhausting
to be in love with the universe.

I fell
for the trees,
and the sky,
and the wind.

I ache
for bones,
for skin,
for blood.

I pine
for the boy
who kissed me first,
for the boy
who fucked me last.

I breathe
with the dying man
from Vietnam,
with the crying newborn
from Paris.

I love
(all the time).

I dream
(of apathy). 

3:27 pm  •  30 September 2012  •  321 notes