Just pure magic.
What I felt was just endless possibility. I felt loved for just a split second. Until the second was over I felt at peace. Never opening my eyes to see the reality staring right at me.
One day is the only time it took. But of course I refused to come face to face with the honesty of the whole thing. Dreaming was what I was used to. I didn’t know what it was. I was a child to affection. But it felt so good. So warm. So gentle.
My insecurities shining like a diamond. But they were taken, and held, and sheltered.
But, I didn’t have the courage to tell you how nice it was; you left.
Should I write this in a letter to you?
I loved every single second of your comfort. And now I’m alone once again.
But that isn’t your fault. You had to go back home, to where you know.
Now, I don’t belong.
But I can’t say any of this to you. I don’t know you like that. But I know myself like that, and I can necessarily trust that it’s the same.
I get so caught up in the moment, that I begin to believe that something is so much more than what it really is. It’s not realistic. I should stop. Put tape over my mouth and make me quiet. I’m like saran wrap. Just rip me off so there’s no static cling. Please for your own sanity.
My insanity will be fine. There will be too much of it, and I’ll get lost.