https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/36458889/#36461607 

If my rainbow were a wave
Awash with pigments not of human born
A wash of watercolors splashed on canvas beaches
Would there ever be a tide as low as when I find my naked body thrust in frozen sterile bathroom tile
(Not six feet deep enough, but deep enough)
Grasping at photons whose wavelength is too long
Too bright
Too brief
For hands to wrap around and say “I love you”

To make is to be
But making what I see in her
Making what I wish to see
Is never as easy as sitting this one out
As laying down and dying 
As saying “I am not enough”

But whenever
That
Comes to mind
I think:

“No matter what she feels for me
No matter if she loves me back
She’s never die to wait for my return
And if she would, I’d never let her wither, shrivel up
When the sky is just a flap away.”

Why should I expire when she feels just the same?