A name that rhymes with take can’t be forgotten. Dad said my first word was drink, though I wish it was mother, maybe I would call home more often. Why is my favorite letter, because I like to question everything, including you and me. My favorite symbol is the semicolon, because I let it out to play, to flirt on a screen too bright for tired eyes, changing an innocent hello to a goodbye of innocence.
The most beautiful word I’ve ever seen you utter is fuck, usually between your teeth, into a pillow or a fistful of my hair. The ugliest word I know is hatred, thick and rich like an apocalyptic fog. It doesn’t roll off the tongue because you have to work at it. I definitely misspell defiantly, and it might be the other way around but I’m in love with my own confusion. As Patrick Stump and Elton John said to me the other night, “You are what you love, not who loves you.”