Something.

If I ever push you away, I don't really mean to.
When I tell I don't want to talk about it
I do, I am just looking for the right words.
Give me a minute, and if I can tell you I will.
I try to be a struggling mix of real and perfect at the same time.
                                  at the moment,
I am working on the ratio.
when I get really quite sometimes
Its because I have too much to say
I have thought of too many things to tell you
all at once
and I don't know what to say first,
I get immaturely jealous of anyone
who gets to see you on daily basis.
I miss you really easily
But I also like that we can be

a       p        a      r     t
and we are both okay,               space is good, too.
I love the way we love some of the same things.          and I love how
we love entirely different things.
My head is complicated pile of thoughts,
and fears and cravings, and dreams,
and this tangled up nostalgia for the
past and, somehow, the future.
I am flawed and I am human and I am broken and
I am trying and I am one person and I am two
hands and I am one                            and I love you,
heart.                                            and I am so glad you are here.