You are woven too far into me and if I do not ever get to call you my girlfriend — if I do not ever get to hold you and know that you do not want anyone else holding you — if I do not ever get to know that I am not sharing you — if I do not ever get to be selfish with you — if I do not ever get to have you, to eat you all up, to steal you away and keep you and destroy you with too much of me — I do not know what I will do. I do not know what I will. I do not know. I do not. I do. Please. Please. Please. You are surely with him now as you sleep and I am too big for my body. I cannot listen to the songs we listened to. I cannot listen to you breathing in their risings and fallings. I cannot hold this space for us much longer, this liminal nothing-space with nothing but our fears inside it. I will have to jump soon. I will have to love you soon. I will have to. I will.