speck of dust
what an absolute honour and a privilege it is, to be loved by you. to be included, to be thought of every so often. unfortunately for me that privilege is yet to be bestowed upon me; a mere speck of dust beneath your beautiful fingernails.
i suppose one can dream. it kept me alive, for now. and such a weird thing that burn the furnace of my living being considering i always thought that nobody ever really loved me.
oh well.
"to burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves"
-- federico garcía lorca