Years, ago

You were flipping through old notebooks and found an entry that made you pause:

Is it possible to feel claustrophobic in ones own skin. Or is this me loosing control. 

You didn’t pause because of what I had once written. But rather because it contrasted to what I wrote you now:

And the reason I hold you so close, the reason I try to bury myself inside you, the reason I wish you could just absorb me, is because I feel more comfortable in your skin than I ever did in my own. 

Devour me.