If
I could make it better, I would. I would swallow the sun and kiss
it straight into your mouth if it meant you’d feel warm
again. I would bury green gardens deep inside your heart if it
meant you would blossom there. I would pull myself apart, jagged
bone and soft skin, if it meant I could find the right pieces to
put you back together again. I would, darling. I would. But I
can’t. For I learned time and time again that human beings
cannot be saved, or fixed, or grown by others — they can
only be loved. So I will love you, and I will love you
well.
