The Battle We Are Fighting Is Not

But When I Do Feel All The Strength Go Out Of Me, And I Fall To My Knees Beside The Table And I Think I Cry, Then, Or At Least I Want To, And Everything Inside Me Screams For Just One More Kiss, One More Word, One More Glance, One More.

I Am Selfish. I Am Brave.

I Know Some Things--i Know That I'm Not Alone, That I Have Friends, That I'm In Love. I Know That I Don't Want To Die, And For Me That's Something--more Than I Could Have Said A Few Weeks Ago.

He Gives Me A Conflicted Look And Touches His Lips To My Forehead, Right Between My Eyebrows. I Close My Eyes. I Don't Understand This, Whatever It Is. But I Don't Want To Ruin It, So I Say Nothing. He Doesn't Move; He Just Stays There With His Mouth Pressed To My Skin, And I Stay There With My Hands On His Waist, For A Long Time.

With Four? Doing A Little... Addition? Multiplication?