Longing Thoughts of the Delusional One

The Words I Can't Say

I know it's no good for me to be thinking about this. I know that he just brings sorrrow and painful memories that hurts to choke down. Just thinking of everything and him, everything with him. It feels like a hand is within my throat, stretching from my stomach and coming up, squeezing anything it can grab. 

How do you know if you're in love? 

I sincerely wonder, if what I think of him pitter patters through his thoughts. Does the thought of me dance around in his head? Did he even think of me in the way I picture us? Does his mind go crazy when he sees my name? Or hears it? What does he think of me? Does he think I'm a complete mess? After everything that I told him, what does he think of me? Would we ever become an us? Does he constantly check his phone even though he knows it didn't go off? Hoping he didn't miss anything? Does he linger after he says his finally goodbye for now? Does he type something, but never sends it? Does he wish that he could push the conversation out further, just maybe more 5 minutes?

I can just see us, in a messy bed, roughly around 7:30ish, a Sunday. Holding each other as we sleep. The alarm clock echoes around the room. He starts to move, but I turn it off before he does. "Don't go just yet." I say, facing him now.

"But I have to go." He says, but doesn't move.

"Can you just stay home for the day? With me?" I say, rubbing his arms.

"But if I do this everyday, I will soon become fat because I'll get lazy." He says in his groggy morning voice, brushing my hair back.

"I didn't say you have to do it everyday. Just today." I say, pouting. 

"Just for today?" He asks with a sigh.

"Yes. Just for today and I promise I won't ask again." 

"Don't make that promise." He grins and kisses my head. "I suppose I could stay... I don't really have work today." He thinks over his answer, checking in his head. Maybe missing anything that's suppose to happen today.

"Great." I grin, staring at his chin. He looks down at me and pulls me closer. I can feel his heart under his breast. I slowly run my hands on his somewhat cold body, but felt good when I place my warm hands on his sides. Making a perfect temperature for both of us. We lay together, listening to the faint sound of the radio and the cars driving by. His stomach growls, breaking the comforting sounds. I giggle and say, "Hungry?"

"Yeah." He says sheepishly, but we don't pull away just yet. We wait a bit then head to the kitchen. He follows behind me and his bones crack as he moves. He yawns and sits at the bar stools that are with the island. I get in the kitchen and start pulling out food. He gets up and starts helping me, but he makes little touches as he passes. I put music on, but not too loud. "Go sit, I'll make breakfast." He says.

"You sure?" I ask. He always makes breakfast for him and I in the morning.

"Yes." He smiles and then starts on the eggs and biscuits. 

I ask again, how do you know you're in love?

When I check if you text me back. When you do, I smile a little bit. I don't tell you because it would make things weird. And if I stopped talking you, I don't know if you would feel a longing like I would and did. When we didn't talk for a while, I felt awkward, yet relieved. Something was different, I worked things out, but things got worse as we talked again. I felt a rock in my throat, yet I didn't want to believe it is there. What is wrong with me? Am I really that indecisive? I'm such a clichè, my mind tells me no, but I want to believe yes.

I can never win, but at the same time, I envy it. I must admit, it turns me on. You're not afraid to say anything, and just so... Out there. But yet, I feel dumb talking to someone like you. How do you do it? You're so confident in your answers and responses. What have you gone through that you haven't told me? Will we ever get to a point where I know almost everything about you without any gaps or holes?

You say things, that I'm not sure you mean. You see something I don't, you tried to make me see, but I'm blinded by something else. I'm not sure if what you say is in that way. Do you mean it? Am I crazy? Am I seeing things? I want to think that you mean it, but I'm not so sure. Should I even try? Should I just give up the idea of we being us? Or am I just another crazy lovesick puppy that you see as a kid? Am I a kid to you? Do you think I'm immature? How am I not annoying you yet? Is it I'm too young? You've mention that before... Did you mean it? Is there something else? What matters the most to you?

When is the last time you thought me?

What reminds you of me?

Do you love me?