there is something here that resonates:

the boy you love is not who you think he is

he's not even who he believes himself to be.

when you hold him, you are only holding your memories

and even those do not exist.

when he tells you he loves you, it cannot mean anything

because the very fact of his being is the product of loneliness.

and yet.

you wrap yourself around him.

you feel his lips on the back of your neck.

you let him save you in all of the twisted ways

that should not be.

ghostboy, i love you.

i feel you in the tiniest spaces of my ear, whispering.

i know you.

i'm coming.