Tell me you love me. Prove it. Make it mean something. Show me that there is no air in your lungs when I leave and that your heart is mine to crush.
Allow me the knowledge that life is loving my bones and the way I exhale when I’m calm. You used to love my skin, the curves of my sin and the light that was lost. You took that. Made it your own then cast it to a memory too distant to recall. Bring it back. Come back to me. Prove that love exists outside of the script and say you’ll write the lines with me.
Love me the way I deserve to be loved. See me as I deserve to be seen. Prove the worlds not a loveless pit and all that what was good isn’t lost. Tear down the barriers you’ve built in me so I might feel the moon kiss my skin. Come back to me, remind me what lovers can conjure when the sky is starless and the heart is full. Make me believe that love could save me when I’m not capable of saving myself.
Make me want to die, if living meant a life free from you. Love me so that I won’t realise when the floor beneath us breaks. Love me as I have loved you with every thought and whisper. Let me survive a love long past the night the world itself dies. Wholely, truthfully and vividly. Love me like that.