I know this one girl with bright eyes that keep me warm. Her laugh is a melody and every word from her was worth gold and diamonds, and they stick in my mind easily. Every word that she spoke to me in particular was worth the world, because the world wouldn’t love me if they knew.

I wish she knew.

Every glance she gives me is a bullet through the heart, every touch is a fire so warm it burns. When I think of her when I fall into a slumber, sleep becomes death and my bed becomes a tomb. She completes me in the most ruinous way.

The sound of her name spreads honey on my tongue and I glue my lips together, because if anyone saw the honey then they would see only venom. I wish that I could tell her how I feel, if I was allowed to feel at all. I think of shadows overcoming light if I tell her how I felt, I think of horror stomping on peace.

Those thoughts fill me head and they threaten to burst out. And they do, in the form of tears that tasted as salty and bitter as the love that they were made from. But I can’t stop. I just can’t stop.

I do not believe that this is right. I couldn’t approve of this because the world taught me that I shouldn’t.

But I can’t stop. I just can’t stop.

I know this one girl who finds another boy to love and sometimes I see them, holding hands and laughing with each other. Their laughter is as pure as their love, and as pure as my envy. But I only smile and congratulate them for their happiness. The envy drains out and I am left hollow.

When I sleep I meet her there and I get to tell her that I love her, and she isn’t disgusted by me. She doesn’t tell me that it’s wrong, she doesn’t tell me that I was horrible and ugly for it. She gives me a light smile, and she tells me that I am loved.

I am loved, I am loved, I am loved.

But not by her.

It’s not allowed.

And it still hurts.