You.

You are the small droplets of splattered paint that were never meant to be but somehow hold everlasting beauty
You are the crooked zipper that took a few extra tugs but always came through in the end, interlocking two sides perfectly.
You are the euphoric thought that rushes through my head at the best of times and the worst of times, that knot in the back of my throat choking my words, the crack in the ground that catches my eye I've suddenly collided with because I've fallen without the least possible thought.

You are flawless.
You are everything I want to be, everything I want to have in my grasps.
You are the dirt under my fingernails I carry with me unknowingly, that infects my body and turns my veins brown.
You are the eyes I wear at nighttime when I look into the hallway and hope the creaking came from a familiar foot.
You are the oils in my fingertips that make me feel worthless and unclean, that make me want to be perfect, but also the whisper in my ear that speaks to me, tells me I am something I am not, something I believe anyways.

You are the aloe seeping into my red burned skin that soothes and calms.
The book missing pages seventy five through one hundred and twenty four because it might have been read too many times.
You are the hand holding my chin as my lips quiver and my body shakes and the sky collapses, suffocating the threshold, until I am embarrassed to be here with you but never want to leave this place.

You are the voice in the back of my head, feeding thoughts that slowly slide out of my lips
You are the heart
beating,
beating,
beating,
pumping blood into my shriveled arteries
so forcefully sucked
from my veins
Just beyond my reach, you are a one way mirror.
At my fingertips, my glass glass soul, reflecting my heart.

Shhhh. Quiet now.
You are so close I can taste it.
Bitter, on the back of my tongue,
away from the words spilling over the tip
Wanting to tell you
You are
And I love you.