Letter to Mr. Stoat

“You’re good at being you”
Why does that make my heart

“You’re so extra”
Why does that warm my cheeks

I’m garbage
“At least you’re hot garbage”
This shouldn’t tie my affections to you

And yet
and Yet
It does

I do not wish to use you
I do not want to be used
I cannot trust myself
You should not trust me either
What if my indeterminate intentions
What if my hormone-and-heartbreak addled self
What if it hurts you

What if i hurt you

I have no easy out
I have no way that won’t hurt you eventually
I cannot guarantee
I cannot promise

So wait with me under the stars
Kiss me softly in the winter moonlight
We can see if this is true
Or we can see if I’ve lied to you.

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