And you never really heal do you…you never truly truly heal. Love hits you like a telephone pole and all of my heart is yours and ours and we are all all of ourselves and nothing matters but matter and soul. No soul but all soul and all my soul is our. I will always, always love you. An always is a little drip of forever that sits on your shoulder map. The freckle that still smiles on my skin for you. The wells of powertools that drill open the ribcage butterwings I’m learning to grow. Tasteless comments of tasting the world and something that feels like an ache. And the bits, the little bits the captive hearts, the pulsing frames of buildings wanting to hold you, wanting to be seen, the stuffing bits longing to communicate. You are part of the everything force.