the problem of us was not the lack of touch or the bystanders, babe, it was us and i think we both knew it. i think we both knew the way we looked at each other and the transparence and the smiles and the tension. the problem wasn’t us and i need to stop making excuses for my own cowardice and you need to. you need to stop hiding behind your internalized fear. you need to be honest with yourself. i know you’re not who you want to be and i know you’re disgusted by yourself but it doesn’t matter. i loved you. i loved you for that scrawny kid who held his pencil with an artist’s touch and his matted hair and the way you carried yourself with the arch in your back and the lanky frame draped in crumbled t-shirts. i loved you and a part of me will always love you. for her it’s you; it’s always been you. it’ll be always you. and babe. another will love you as did i. trust me.