/lit/ - Literature

I did not know what love was before I met them.

To hold their lithe arms and raise them like skinny antennas to heaven.

That I might hold their body close, and cry on their chest.

The only person who I would cry for.

Who I never wanted to love, but so it was.

And who I covet like no other.

That if God were willing, I would have you.

It is my punishment, for cursing his name, for it not to be so.

My silly friend.