You should stay as far away from me as possible. You should pack up your blue eyes and your cold, immobile heart and leave me in the middle of the night with no word on how to find you. Listen to your instincts, feel it in the wind, whatever. Look for the signs, each one is whispering to you a single word: Run!
So go. Git.
Ignore our similar histories and passions. Do not imagine the future I could slide into like water down your throat. Do not close your eyes and remember how we have quietly twisted together. Whatever you do, don’t remember the good. The good might lure you back to me.
Instead, think only of your fears and call them convictions. Call yourself a wanderer. Tell yourself I will only tie you down. Repeat these excuses to your friends. Pretend not to hear how flimsy the words sound. Go explore, be alone, find yourself. Meet uncomplicated girls. Don’t learn their last names. Fuck them.
You fear (and rightly so) what I will do to your life. I would challenge every thought, blur every line and insist on vivid detail and subtext. I would ask too much. I would be an upheaval, a time suck, the last thing you need in the tidy bohemian chaos of your story line. I am soft-bodied and warm blooded and entirely to conflicted and passionate to be any good to you. I would grab. I would insist. I would run my hands up your arm, put my mouth to your ear, and whisper “I love you.”
Go. Please, without saying goodbye. And I wish you all the happiness in the world, I really do.