Work Text:
You’re in a car with a beautiful boy- No you've heard that one before. Or maybe you haven't. Maybe you have lived a completely separate life to mine that still knots while intertwining.
I watch you as if you're the sun and I'm Icarus, flying too close just for the gentle touch. I watch you as if you're in the space I've been haunting as a ghost, quiet and wanting. I watch you as if you're a person wandering outside and I'm just the gentle crow, hopping along the branches above you. But that isn't us, is it?
I'm not Icarus or a ghost or a crow perhaps not even human. Not anything. Yet you look at me as if I'm not crashing and burning with every second that passes. As if I'm not lit on fire and standing- waiting for something to finally kill me.
You're in a car with a beautiful boy except you're not. You're not in a car because you hate cars and you don't even know that poem. You're sitting in your chair staring at your screen that displays my heart ripped from my chest. Beating, though barely, as I sob and sob and sob because my wings have melted and I've finally hit the water.
To be loved is to be seen. To be loved is to be changed. To be loved is to be cared for. To love is to hurt.
You are the beautiful boy I wish I was in the car with. A beautiful boy who loves me but won't tell me that he loves me. And I'll sit there like I want to throw up, like everything I've ever done has been the wrong decision. Like I'm imploding in on myself and all you can do is sit next to me and watch.
Yet you stay.
My heart sits in my burnt hands, fingertips blackened by the singes. I'm still on fire and flames will lick at the tears that stream from my eyes. But my heart sits in my hands for you to take. And you will hesitate- falter when staring at the gaping hole in my chest and the fire that cauterizes it. I'm offering though.
Part of me knows you will take it.