there's a comfort in not knowing. the fact that I'll never know how we might've turned out together leaves me the room to walk with my hopes all over the cloud. the delicacy of "I'll never know", the yearning, the surety that my thoughts won't betray — it's like being nostalgic for the future while our present stands rooted still. we exist in ripples — forbidden glances and hearty laughs. somedays, we crumble — atleast I do, in the silent hopes that you might feel a similar burn; somewhere, someday. I'm selfish, enough that I don't want this to stop. I'll watch over and be here, own you from the rim. I'm scared and in love, I don't know who I'll be with or without you. there's a comfort in not knowing, in not belonging but being just close enough — there's an unsaid comfort that the idea of "us" existing together, under the same sky; with the same hopes carries with itself. there's comfort in watching the morning sun burn down to ashes everyday, knowing that the next rays that will kiss my skin will bring you with themselves. loving from the sidewalk; the pursuit of a love that I'll never pursue — unfulfilled yet robust, in the rawest of forms and in the most chaotically candid way. it's simple, really — you're my favourite "what if"; my best "I'll never know".
