Search Results: choosing death

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I once meet a boy who wanted to ask me what I was made of? I told him about my life. I said to him I made out of depression and smiles and laughs and tears. I made out of that last desperate hope that you see right before death. I am like your last chance to survive and you are my last dream before death. And, when you close your eyes I am there to whisper "hello”. When I meet you again and you finally with words ask me what I was made out of? I will say with a low calm steady voice, I made of me and all my past lover from before my own birth. Than you will fade like sad memories or like failure or regret that never truly leave and when you face me once again with kinda gentle flowing words wishing to hold my grief, I will hold your arms harder push, pull, battle, bawl, bash, my soul which is soft sweet silent stiff stale so that you can comprehend why I shake and tremble as if you could hear the sounds of breaking breaking empty shells that hide beneath my skin that you so quickly choose to ignore. Oh when I reach for your arms…. Oh and when I ask you to hold me I mean love me. I don’t mean laugh at me , or lets mock my bad judgement. I don’t mean lets change the subject because it sound way too complicated. I don’t mean lets debate about how sexist I sound. When I ask you to hold me I mean seal me in envelope and make me your irreplaceable item. I mean embrace me with open arms so that I may rest my soul in what I believe is love. When I finally lay my head in your arms I am trying tell you I trust you and i am trying to explain to you that you matter. A hug is not something that is just given or gift sent by some higher power its a part of me in which you have decide to untangle the parts of me that you earn to have.
Thank you.
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P. S.💟 I don't care if you don't like my grammar! hahah!