How to love.

If you're going to hurt me, make sure you do it right, this time. Don't do any of that easy stuff; don't wait to make a move, and let us ease into this thing. I don't care what you call it; don't hold back.

Because time breaks, and time laughs, and time tells me that things are always temporary. No matter how long I'm mad, I'll be happy again someday. And no matter how many tears I cry, there will be an end, and I'll smile one more time.

I don't want you to be just a whimper on the face of my existence. I want you to prove you were in my life, no matter how short it was. I want you to be a mark somewhere inside my legs, because you're still a secret, no matter how many people I tell and no one really understands.

But if we're going to do this, we're going to do this the right way. And the right way is the hard way, in case you were wondering. The right way is the way that leaves me with the marks inside so that when it's over - and it'll end someday, whether we want it to or not - I should still have those mind-and-body scars to prove that something went down between us, even if it was only me kneeling and praying to a god I don't believe in to come save whatever might be left.

I don't make predictions anymore, and I've given up trying to foretell a future I don't believe will really exist; this is just a trace and a taste of what might happen one day. But I need to know that when that day comes, I can walk away from you and still know you're with me, no matter what. This is why I'm asking, and telling you how you're supposed to love. I don't give how to lessons normally, but I thought you ought to know, just because you're not used to the kind of person I am.

Because the world tilts three shades too far to the left sometimes and that's when you're leaning against me, but when it's tilted a bit too right then you're standing on your own, and I like that. But I also like knowing that if I'm going to fall, you'll be more stable than you are. I don't want you to catch me; I've got the scrapes and bruises of a collector. I just don't want you to stare and wonder what the hell just happened. It's something that will. I promise.

Maybe promises aren't exactly what you had in mind when this first started out. I told you things would go as they would go. And they are going. We're two star signs and we move fast because you're air and I'm fire and when air burns, the fire gets hotter than it is in hell. Hot enough to melt the heavens and maybe convince angels that sin is a taste of the real life. You want to stretch down and touch humanity once more, just to see what we can offer.

I know what I'm trying to say, but the words keep slipping off the tongue into something different. These aren't the words I meant to write, and they're still just wandering in circles; ramblin' man, I guess. A bit too drunk to function when the solstice goes by. I just want an answer, and that's whether or not you'll love the way I do.

Like there's no tomorrow.

Like you've never been hurt.

Like the world isn't looking.

Like no one else has to know.

Like your heart's not beating.

Like your lungs aren't breathing.

Like you're still believing in me.

You've got to know how I love or you'll be swept up and away and you'll be grabbing for the shores. You've got to trust this ocean, and believe that maybe it's not out to get you. The dolphins aren't sharks; they're coming to your rescue. And above all, I need you to trust yourself, because when this world ends, you're the one who'll still be alive, if cut adrift. But have faith in how strong you can be, if you need to be. And you'll be fine, love.

That's a promise.

Now say it with me.

I love you.