I’m just waiting for the day when he tells me, “I don’t want you anymore.”
I expect it by now, how could I ever be this happy and it be real?
I’m fooling myself, I could never be this happy, could I?
But I love him.
I loved him the day I met him because it was like being handed the deed to my own heart after having been leased out for so long.
I got back the custody to my own feelings.
And I felt everything.
I’d give anything to relive that day.
What am I saying? I’m still living it.
This fantasy. There’s no way this is real.
Could it be real?
I need for it to be real.
It has to be real…
Because I love him.
I loved him the second his hand touched mine because everyone saw and I wanted them so badly to see it. I wanted them to know he was mine, because if they knew, then maybe I would too.
And I do.
Have you ever looked into someone’s eyes and cried for the sole purpose of loving them?
Without wanting to, without planning to, and without knowing how to stop?
Some people die of heartbreak,
Could I die by lovestruck?
I reckon that’d be the best way to die.
Oh stop, don’t be silly, he’s a good man.
Yes, he is a good man.
I remember dancing with him, carelessly.
I remember the smile on his face every time he looked at me.
And I thought to myself, I could get used to this. I could get used to him.
He could be my fair shot at happiness.
I should know better, but I wish for him anyway.
After all, I love him.
And what is love without doubt and fear?
Doubting it’s real
But fearing it’s not.
For the first time ever I don’t want to coat love with metaphors to make it sound prettier than it is because for the first time ever, I love you is the most beautiful line I’ve ever written.
And I’d rather write it than say it because to say it is to compensate for not showing it and I want to show it.
Because then he’ll know it, and it’ll be real.
So I will act the way I feel,