you're such a fuckin mystery
and i love you for it.
and you know it
you know it you know it

there are reasons i try not to talk
to you
but the reasons i can't hold back
are way more obvious
and you like them more.

and i dream, dearest,
that i'll touch your hand
and my fingers will be cold
because it is winter
because i like winter best
and to you they'll feel
metephorically warm
because they weren't what
you'd thought they would be.
that is what i dream.

and then it would end
and nothing would happen
and we would go on like always
because that is the way
it has always been
and always will be
for us

because you're on a pedestal
and maybe i'm on yours.
and we know that even
if one day
we muster up the courage
to take each other off
the pedestals
and out of the plastic casing
it wouldn't happen

the way we always knew
it wouldn't happen.

and i dream
that we will always think
of each other
when it rains
because when we reach
21
we will stop talking
because
because
maybe we were too busy
or too afraid
of the fragility
that the years
had cost us
too afraid
to break something
that would, inevitably,
shatter.

despite everything
despite the truth
despite the honesty
despite the trust
despite the understanding
despite the affection
despite nothing
despite everything
(love) was
always fragile.