#theyoungjayleno

I could love you. With you, I could watch the days turn into nights and then back again. Together we could count the stars and the time it takes for us to grow weary.   Double knot your soul to mine and we could Double Dutch across the galaxy. I could grow gardens with you. Cater to dry soil and scorched Earth for you. Whisk water into nectar for you, ensuring our well would never run dry. Come, roll around with me in endless fields of cane sugar and honeydew.                                         I could dry your tears. Kiss fear from your lips and make you forget what regret feels like. Darling, I could grow old with you. Stand firm beside you even when it gets hard to stand. Let me be your backbone. Let me carry and caress you like waves returning to the only home they've ever know. I could deep sea dive into your abyss. Let me journey to the center of your universe. Go around the World in eighty days and back, with you. I could love you here, I could love you there, I could love you anywhere. I could love you, in another lifetime, perhaps.                                 Just.                                                 Not.                                                               Now.

I want someone that would follow me down the rabbit hole, unprepared, yet unafraid.

I hope you wake up one day and realize that you broke the only person who had the courage to love you out loud.

I thought I became a woman that night. I was wrong. I became a woman when I kissed you goodbye, unknowingly, for the last time on the coldest day in June.                     It was at the corner of Broad and the end of us. I can still see your car pulling off heading East towards the highway. As you drove away, I swore you'd come back for me. Well, that was a year ago, and you were and still are the one that changed everything. I find myself leaving flowers in the parking lot of the last place you loved me. And no, it won't bring you back. But, I will still light a candle in your absence and say a prayer that you find your way back to me.

I could write the most beautiful things about you, if only you'd let me.

It's three in the morning and you're halfway across town resting in another's arms. They don't know how to hold you. They don't know that the room can't be too hot or too cold; or that the window has to be cracked just right. They don't know how many times to kiss your forehead before you close your eyes. They don't know how many conversations it takes until you grow tired. They don't know that it was my voice that soothed you. But I do.