I don’t want to know if you love me.
I’m too hung up on the way it feels when you hold me.
I don’t want to let go of the way you look when you’re sleeping.
I’m too attached to the daydreams that keep me around.
It’s that little laugh you let out when I render a compliment you can’t comprehend.
It’s that sweet smirk that creeps across your face when I say something ridiculously alluring.
It’s the way that you touch me when you’re on the phone or walking by
that makes me think I’m right at home.
When you tell me about your day or teach me something new, I soak up your words as if they add years to my life.
Maybe they do…
I’m too scared to hear you concede to our future.
I’m not ready for you to tell me that what we have is not worth a try.
I’m not ready for the unsaid to show that I’m not enough.
You might love me after all –
but I know that love won’t win.
Poet: Stefanie Parrott