i like him.
those days before felt so distanced and out of the universe you were in
somehow our worlds collided
stardust fell into my lap the way a glow stick would spill its neon guts onto a baby blanket after biting it
i want to know the way the words form in your brain before you say them so confidently
do you sow your seeds for yourself? do you plant things in exchange for the acceptance of others?
i like the way i feel when i distract myself from the outage and abandonment by looking at his smile
the fear of coming on too strong is overlapping with the knowledge that i overthink
i want him to know me
i want him to know every word i've echoed from an old interview of justin timberlake
i want him to hold my hand in spontaneity and tell me everything he misses right now
i want him to see the things i see in the presence of the most ultimate opportunities to be surrounded by my own creativity
maybe i'm romanticizing every possible moment i could ever have that involves you
the ink he uses to write is something i long for an interaction with
i write this with burning ink stirred with a hyperbolic interest driven plastic stick
melted.
the words i want to say to him sit behind glass
the ways i want to know him go beyond what small talk can ever tackle
broken glass requires knuckles
what we have could be gorgeous if you saw right through me
if you saw right through my broken glass, you would see how similar we are in almost every way
it's admirable
if he knew how much love i am willing to pour into the cracks,
would he run away?
i like him.
