You keep doing all these things to make me think you're not over me. Your hand accidentally brushes my leg. My knee grazes yours. And every time I look up at you, your eyes are already there.
I need you to tell me straight. I can't keep convincing myself that I'm not alone in this without a reason. You're giving me false hope and I want you to just lay it all out on the table.
Tell me everything. I don't care about the good and the bad. Everything. All the details about us. I know it's been a long time coming, but I need to know the truth about how you feel, because it's tearing me apart inside. The waiting. The watching.
The hoping.
Be brutal. I can take it. I have an inkling that your words won't be exactly what I want to hear, but tell me anyway.
Maybe this will give me closure, you know? If I finally know how you feel, then I might be able to let go.
Finally be able to let you go.
YOU ARE READING
(empty)
Poetryhey, you. this is everything I didn't say last summer. this is our story. (just short little blurbs about my first love)
