tasteless skittles

how is your voice so incredibly exquisite?

i wish i could keep it—i wish i could keep it all for myself but i know that’s just a dumb dollar-store daydream now. i swear i’m not senselessly selfish but i couldn’t help all these hysterical feelings, fleeting and fumbled, collapsing and careening, swelling and spilling beyond my exhausted arms but i’m not tired of you yet; though every unsolved puzzle piece i propose to pick out is so pleasantly problematic.

you’re so weird, but i like that.

maybe it’s just blunt deception soon dropping dead to distance. maybe we’re both meant for nothing more than a peck on the cheek and passive-aggressive complacency. maybe i’m the popsicle puddle melting forever in your sweetest summer sadness—but i won’t be watered down. and i won’t hold you back. if you’d just wait a little bit longer, then maybe will turn into…

something else?

and i’ll be the one singing for you, this time. and you could keep it. you could keep it all for yourself. i won’t mind, i promise. it’s always been yours.

because—dearest applebee, you’re just so;

you’re just too incredibly exquisite.

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