subpar

I remember how I loved it here.

last I left it, it was the happiest time of my life.

the most destructive kind of happy.

the most twisted kind of happiness that walks along with a twisted kind of love.

just like licorice, that love was sweet and red and so completely addictive.

it was an addiction and I craved the twisted love that he and I, me and him, shared.

I want to be happy here.

I am happy here.

I want to be here.

I want you to be my twisted love and forget my tangled past.

I want to learn how to write.

I want my hands to memorize the way it feels to write your name like the way they memorized what his hair felt like tangled between my fingers.

I want to replace here and him and that synthetic happiness with here and you and new.

I want to be held by you in the place he last broke me.

I want to read your eyes like a book and memorize the constellations in the galaxy that you are. 

I want to touch the stars and float on cloud nine.

I want to watch shooting stars with you next to me, to replace the taste those last shooting stars left in my mouth.

his voice is the best I've ever heard.

his voice is the most destructive in every sense of the word.

I crave the way we loved, but I crave it with you.

he's an epidemic and I am 1918 and everyone dies eventually.