you go all soft on me. you hold me carefully. you hug me tightly and you say, when i dont hug you back, that its a work for two, so i should hug you immediatly. you complain, when i am not holding your hand tightly when its needed, you say you hold my hand as if you ask me for a prom. you laugh at me, with me. you say let me fucking carry that bag of yours, why are you so annoying. you sit on the ground and tie my shoelaces, because my body hurts, and you are impossibly gentle for no reason at all. you say people will think i am asking you to marry me. dont marry me, i am a trashcan, and i say something about how you asked me countless times years ago over different stupid reasons. i should’ve say that you are okay, but i will save that, you would not believe me anyways, you are too broken.

sometimes you are not that soft. sometimes you turn dull and petty, and misarable - but that side of you, that one, that hurt so much - i dont hate it. i just dont know what to do with my hands.