did I make you feel like the thorns of your stem were far too real?
and did thy believe that the pain wasn’t quite promising enough?
how many echoes of an urge still bite through to push thee to what can be?
do we believe in an unsettling possibility that who we are and who we must be will hurt them?
how could I notice this symmetry we’ve woven?
didn’t it seem like who we were signaled the scale’s imbalance?
and the weaker one, kill me with your love
I desire to know the difference between our ways
I desire to give this distance the respect that it craves
we bear the thought of haunting each other
