it is 9:36 on a Tuesday night. i don't know if it's still snowing, but i do know it's cold and my palms are covered in a thin layer of sweat. slowly, it eats away at my epidermis like a parasite. soon i will be nothing more than skeletal muscle and a decaying pericardium. i think this is beginning to happen already, this disintegration. it began five minutes and thirty seven seconds ago when i realized two things:
you will never love me.
i will love you all the same.
our timelines were never meant to connect, not really. there was just that second-long contact, a chance, a lifetime in my eyes. i keep replaying that moment again and again. i don't remember what you were wearing, how your hair looked, the way your smile looked. no; all i can recall is how your skin felt on your forearm, the sound of a marker against flesh.
i realize that that is all we will be: a fleeting smile. a promise to keep in touch.
i will never kiss you. i will never get the chance to sweep the hair from your neck, and i will never understand how beautiful you are when it's raining. we will never sing along to my crappy mixed cd's. i will never see you right when you wake up or right before you fall asleep, and you will never know that i think i fell in love with you the moment i saw you, because i love you enough not to tell you.
blue eyes. i think you looked at the ocean for too long and so it became a part of you.
someday, you will forget about me, and i will feel it happening; and i will let go, because to love is to let go, is it not?