There’s something about you that intrigues me. a whisper, a word of hello from the very traces of your fingertips makes me light up like matches in the dark. But i hate typing up a paragraph of a life that does not move you in the slightest bit.
Perhaps the cause of this is my age-- the fact that i am young and that i want things much too easily.
Perhaps there exists quiescent nights that brings home a tragedy lived and lifts to the surfaces secrets i was once willing to share.
But it has now risen to my consciousness that i unknowingly wanted you. Perhaps it was the luxurious idea that I had no idea who you truly were; that the very first steps i would have to take would bring a peace to mind. the reassurance. the idea that i know just a small part of you and it was enough; the flaming desire of a once teenage dream.
But these words are nonsense. they are, they truly are- and i know. Disregard these thoughts once the envelope’s been opened and letter’s been read.
so in this imaginary split second of an imaginary snap of my calloused fingers,