" i pressed my nose up to the glass around your heart;
i shoulda known that i was weaker from the start. "

i don't know what to fucking write about you.
this is the third,
or forth,
hell;
maybe even the fifth or sixth time i've tried to spread out my feelings about you.
every time it's a white screen,
with a flashing black line telling me:
write. write. write.
but i can't,
can't,
can't.
again, i'm left with too many thoughts in my head,
i can't decipher one thought from another,
and certainly not long enough to know what to say.
so i'll leave it at this, i suppose.
you are something else entirely,
something that takes the very words out of a writers mouth,
stealing the phrases and sentences i want to string together.
you have left me speechless, breathless, and now wordless.
what am i without words, i don't know.
what am i with you, i don't know.