You're waiting for me to speak. Watching me, looking at me, into me, furthur than before. Your bottom lip is caught beteen your teeth, and I smile a little, beause you never used to do that. You would just look away when you were nervous. Try to find something else to focus on. Maybe I'm rubbing off on you.
I guess it's my reaction your pleading eyes seek. I thought it was obvious that we've been together this whole journey, face to face, nose to nose, slowly filling our gaping wounds as we met them or created them. I'm a little angry, honestly. The way you said it...Made me think that if I hadn't been so close to my end you wouldn't be here now. You would be there. There with her. Too far away to speak to, to touch, to see, to kiss, to need, to love. Is that true? If I hadn't needed you so desperatly, where would you be now? Here with me? With her?...You're so blind some times. I loved that about you. I still do. But for different reasons now. It isn't only because I can pretend in front of you like I used to. But it does make it easier for me find the scars in you and heal them when you can't always see mine. All there is left is scar tissue now.
I want you here, and I still need you. For different reasons now. As always, our feelings are mutual. You're a part of me. Thinking about you not being here...I just see myself as this zombie. This thing; bleeding on the scorched midday streets while I searched for you. reached for you to heal me, to love me like you always have.
Honestly, I often feel like i'm just a wreck of a person who you duck-taped back together. Like I'm ruining your chance to be happy, to love someone who deserves it. But I need you, Ana. All of you. Your healing hands and your soothing lips. Your perfect skin, your dark, deep, full eyes. Your warm hands and feet because mine are always cold. Your fingers and the way you dig them into my hair, nails gently massaging my head when you hold me close.
Two years ago, if you had suggested that we lay next together and write letters back and forth, I would have flipped out at you for pretending like you give a shit about me. You've rubbed off on me too, it seems. I suppose what I'm saying is that I'm crazy for you, baby. Take my hand, Ana. Do you feel the pulse there? Three years ago I sat here and wished it would all stop. But then you looked at me and you pulled me close and told me that you would never leave me to hurt alone again. You've made me happy, Ana. Taken the pain away, replaced it with joy without restriction. I love you.
P.S.: Beth with a British accent would be adorable.