Take off all your fucking clothes and show me your soul. I want to see it, naked and flawed, flailing on the ground. I want to touch all the dark parts, the parts you never show to anyone. Show me the parts of you that glitter and shine. I want to put it in my mouth while I look you in the eyes, and when you’re ready, I’ll let you spew the worst parts inside you down the back of my throat.
I am glutton for the tedious process of getting to know you. I will sit here for years and watch in fascination while you unravel the knots of the complications inside you just so that I can complicate you all over again. I want to touch every inch of everything about you, read it like a book, memorize my favorite bits, and recite it back to you from memory. I want to know you more than you know yourself. And in return, you can know me, too.
I will show you my pain and my pleasure. My moments of perfection and my passing failures. The small little stories about the things that have made me insane. I will whisper my wretchedness into your ear. My beauty, too. If you’ll have it. Come over here and touch me.