My favourite poem.

if i ever push you away,
i don't really mean to.
when i tell you i don't want to talk about it
i do, i am just looking for the right words.
give me a minute, and if i can tell you; i will.
i try to be a struggling mix of real and perfect at the same time.
at the moment, i am working on the ratio.
when i get really quiet sometimes,
it is because i have too much to say
i have thought of too many things to tell you,
all at once,
and i don't know what to say first.
i get immaturely jealous of anyone
who gets to see you on a daily basis.
i miss you really easily.
but i also like that we can be apart
and we are both okay. space is good, too.
i love the way we love some of the same things
and i love how we love entirely different things.
my head is a complicated pile of thoughts,
and fears, and cravings, and dreams
and this tangled up nostalgia for the past
and somehow, the future.
i am flawed and i am human and i am broken
and i am trying. and i am one person and i am two hands
and i am one heart.
and i love you.
and i am so glad you are here.