"My version of the truth is every letter I never sent and two broken watches sitting on my desk; one that slowly stopped ticking after five years wrapped around my wrist and one whose strap snapped as soon as I tried to put it on and I’m sure you could make a novella out of that but I do not want a metaphor anymore, I want you. Fuck meaningful glances and the smell of rain sneaking through my windowpanes in the early hours, fuck untaken chances, fuck serendipity, your heart is not an empty room. FUCK EVERYTHING I SHOULD HAVE SAID AND EVERYTHING I SHOULD HAVE DONE AND EVERYONE I COULD NEVER HAVE BEEN BECAUSE NONE OF IT WOULD HAVE BEEN ENOUGH. I am begging you to tear out your fears now and run and run and run from the romance of sadness because for however many birthday cards I keep, however many long poems I write, however many aeroplanes don’t crash, I only want your hand in mine. I want you a train ride away. I want to lick the stamp and walk to the postbox and know my love will find you."
-Finn (A Greater Reality)