shaking.

every time this happens i don't regret it. i probably should. i should. i crouch on the elevator floor, shaking the whole way down. sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, four... you have my heart. a folded up sheet of paper, printed in red ink because that's all i have left. i hand you my words encased in layers of paper. and i leave them with you. to edit, annotate, and toss aside.

and im scared.

that was all i had left.

and you tell me it's beautiful.
and you tell me i'm beautiful.
and you tell me it will be okay.

and everything will be okay.