a snippet of my secret.

you’ve brought reading to another level,
i feel all flushed with fever.
but, instead of killing me softly,
I feel life in every morning after the unrest of the night.
I won’t listen to warnings of my heart being empty
when I know that within every single step,
my mind is getting stronger with the work out of sending vivid hopes of you from nerve to nerve.
my nerd,
my nerd,
you bring me to better aspirations,
I dream in the day again, far from R.E.M. cycles that don’t understand the loving kiss of the bright sun.
this pain you’ve jotted down has set my soul on fire
everyday since I have met you, I wonder,
have I found the spiritual confidence I have been looking for?
even if I was fooling myself I am completely grateful.
you might as well pass be the dunce hat and call me the city idiot if I didn’t take advantage of the hope and inspiration planted by your hands.
you write of love and of hope and I applaud you.
ashamedly,
I’m not even that honest when I write.
turn of phrase and double meanings,
a story within a planned out, well-executed concentration of words
yet, still so fearful of the messages I truly want to expose.
I’ve been so afraid of writing about you,
yet I dream about you listening,
you watching,
and you reading
knowing exactly which carefully chosen words are sincerely surrounded around my heart’s vision of you.
and,
I dream that one day, you’ll never have to write about hope so often, so in depth.
I know I can love you until you don’t accept loneliness anymore.
and, if that doesn’t work,
i’m going to love you every single lonely night for the rest of our existence,
so long as you love waking up on our side of the lonely world as much as I do.
your words.
you’ve somehow made me a better person.
I’m pushing forward, I’m pushing on.
sometimes, I am truly over it.
but, secretly, I read your writings,
because secretly,
I still dream of you.