splitting into scorpio, prelude (poem) by Florence Fantasm (me)

you're beautiful. you're really beautiful, dearest. my salty, oyster tears fill the bathtub that i sob in on the twenty-third of october, feeling like i've lost you and forgotten where to find you, but i love you, i love you. follow me home, lights on, with the gaslights and the streetlights, oil lamps and dancing fleas on mangy dogs. every plutocrat will hate the hatred that we bring, but you hate rain after two hours, and i hate the sun after three. so never let me go. never have i ever wanted to kiss you. never have i ever wanted to hold you. never have i ever kissed you in my dreams. never have i ever still felt the warmth of your hand weeks and weeks after it touched my skin. never have i ever fallen in love with a friend. never have i ever dressed up for you, and only for you, and never for myself and never have i ever wanted to be you so i could hear what you thought of me and hear if you loved me inside the gated walls of your curly pink brain. so with that, i take seven shots and i suppose i'm metaphorically drunk, and i would hope you'd walk me home, and you yourself would drink the moon like a werewolf, and i would hope you weren't one. but i suppose you wouldn't do any of that, and i don't plan on drinking, and i don't plan on kissing you unless you kiss me. what a thriller; you're so peculiar and confusing, and beautiful and moonlit, some sort of garden daylight moth, with every intention of sporadically gravitating towards my porchlights. stay longer by my light; the electricity bill is soon due, but i will use every coin except the coppery pennies that i've saved for you, and keep the lights on so you will stay. and i ask you to put out your hand, then ask for the brisk north, then you give me the anesthetized south again, and i suppose that's good enough for me, as long as you're giving something to me. it's been nearly half a year, and i'm sick with contempt for my summer self for keeping to themself, and not sinking to their knees and holding your arms, their heart shaky and beating fast. never will you be in a thousand miles away whilst i'm at the cardiologist, and i'm assuring you that everything is okay, as am i, even without your worry. and never have you ever assured me with the same, so you stay sober.