ecause this inhibition/hesitation starts as something you find cute, charming, whatever

6 months from now it will prohibit your feelings for me from maturing

effectively stopping the progress of our relationship

and thus acting as a catalyst for the doom of "us"

bahahahahahahahahahaha

honey

there is no way Im falling out of love with you

I could write a psychology paper on this

your neurotic behavior?

10:02pm

no!!!

well that too

catalysts for breakups

just like the human body can be broken down into the smallest singular moleculues so can the end of relationships

I just want you to love me as much as you possibly can
all the love you can muster

I remember how scared I was to tell you I loved you
I thought I would get lost in the words
forming in my mind
swelling in my chest like the ocean, those waves, that foam that could drown it out in my lungs
thankfully it was rather cold that day
and since my lips were so cold it was difficult to form the words
that we both knew were coming
but I was scared to blurt out because it felt too soon, so soon, and perhaps insincere in its delivery
I was bashful.

we can do anything
I can
with you
invincible yet invisible
the likelihood of those two words together
as unlikely as our ability to do anything
past the imagination boundaries of our minds.

the moon leaves imprints
dusts of fairies
on my shoulder
tan lines from its bright saucy nature
that interior glow so reminiscent
of an atomic explosion
that blisters and scars
angry red welts
no rather
this is like the freeze the doctor uses
the rich dermatologists
burning out your warts
creating bruises
deftly shadowing the inner crooks of your arms
that light fails to reach
and is soft to the touch
of baby bottoms

Its like I was free
for about an instant, the split second only your best friend usually captures behind her aunt's old camera
but I was looking in a mirror, aware of every freckle, every eyelash, the tilt of my saucy bottom lip pink with childish lipgloss.
my bottom eyelashes were black like a dolls and I looked like I was looking up, yet I was looking straight ahead. Everything was tilted and my cheeks looked pink.
My face for once, not greasy, but glowing, slightly.  My hair looked longer and caught the light.
I saw myself the way I think you see me. The way I imagine I should be seen. But it was, for that second, like seeing a stranger, when I caught my reflection, at the store that afternoon.

I'm building these dreams
out of my dream houses
with its walls lined with bookshelves
(that you built me)
to hold my manuscripts of stories
(I wrote about us)
in its enchanting nooks and crannies
and open white spaces
with no walls between us
 some nights it tumbles
some nights the walls
and the noises of your music
wears me thin
and I cradle my head and wonder what I have gotten myself into again
then I slip inside my dream
and there you are
in real life
and its one and the same and I am thrilled
to be dreaming once again.