I want the ugly pictures back

I want the ugly pictures back. I want them plastered on social media and loaded in your phone. I want the screenshots of every single snapchat or selfie back. I want the fact that you loved my face so much that you had to have just one more double chin or dressing room selfie. I want the ugly pictures back. I want all the sentiments that went with them back. I want all of the memes or cheesy “Boyfriend Suggestion” tumblr posts back. I want the rare but sentimental, meaningful, sweet “good morning” texts back along with the night long facetime calls. I want the calls where we get to the point in the conversation where words don’t matter and we just sit and enjoy the other’s presence because we don’t want to lose it. I want the car rides and the greeting cards. I want the fights and the apologies. I want the highs and the lows- the mountains and the valleys. I want the feeling of knowing someone actually gives a fuck about what is up in your life and the reassurance it’s not all a lie. I want to know I am not alone or a burden or a mess. I want to be your mess. I want to be the one that sings off key in the car with you at 3am. I want to be valid. I want to wear your hoodie around campus and find patches of fabric that still smells like you. I want to curl up with our teddy bears and fall asleep knowing I am one more day closer to the day I get to fall asleep in your arms. I want the reassurance of feelings and the pinky promises. I want the other worldly connection and gravitation. I want to hold your hand and your heart. I want the joy, the sadness, the support, and the love. I want the need. 

I want the ugly pictures back. 

I want you. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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