When none of the fireflies stayed alive for long enough in the jar, I stuffed it with Christmas lights and kept it on the table beside my bed. While I wrote those words inside my heart, like a love song, I realized I was still thinking of you.
Are you thinking of me as well?
They always say we think of the one who’s thinking about us. So, I wonder if we’re both counting sheep on our different beds together while I’m staring at my phone, thinking should I call you?
Do you remember the way I smiled at you? Did you read the message among all the jokes? I never knew how this would’ve felt, and believe me, I tried to fight it, but the joke always seemed to fall on me.
I’m terrified sometimes
Even though I have your love, I’m always thinking about what I’ll do to jinx it. What if your love and passion finally run out because you seem too good to be true?
Am I the only one missing you too?
When I lie in bed, I feel your fingertips move gently across my cheeks. I feel your breath upon my lips. I’m sure… If I close my eyes a little bit tighter and hold onto my breath for a little longer, I might feel your lips, fast and fleeting, upon my skin, like a breeze.
Time stops for a moment, and suddenly it feels like I’m in nirvana… but then, reality sets in. I open my eyes and I try desperately to hold onto that never-fading memory.
I wondered. Could our souls, possibly, connect? Perhaps, through this soulful connection, I’ll understand what you think of me. It is this feeling that makes me feel like I’m going insane.
My silver bullet?
It’s more than just a passing infatuation. I can’t imagine my world without you… even if the only place I can be close to you is in my dreams!
You’re like a drug… a drug that keeps me alive, almost like a poison.
Should I feel hopeful? Should I keep telling myself that maybe I am yours, too? I can draw you out with my eyes closed, and pick you out in a crowded room with similar faces. There is just something about you that I keep asking myself…
You intoxygenate me. Is this love or madness?
I know I’m not supposed to think about how I could feel your eyes meet mine for a split second. Probably because when I look deeply into your eyes, I feel your hands entwined tightly around mine like a glove. I shouldn’t look at that picture of us on the ceiling of my room. I want to hug my pillow, smelling like you, and that has your face on it. However, unlike any other fragrant perfume, yours stood out because it was natural.
So yes, maybe I want to indulge in my fantasies this one time. I ignore the mess across the floor that I glimpse from the corner of my eye. In that very moment, I imagined you next to me, with cards still stuck in my feet, or the scattered pills and drink that left a trail to the bathroom.
Meanwhile, a once perfectly arranged table is face down. The image of red liquid flowing from a glass of wine and pieces of paper, maybe love letters, across the floor, could all fit like a puzzle…
Within this pattern lie the necessary words to fulfill our promises — for both me and you — against sanity.
