#tiny-moth-wings

Chloe you need to move to Chicago so we can finally hang out!!

He makes it rain even when the sun is still shining, but gracious, he makes the sun come out, too, to scare that rain away. 

And I want him to stay, oh I want him to stay. Or I want to stay. One or the other. I want us to stay with each other, continuously, until the end of time. 

I want to dance in that rain he makes and lay out in the rays of sun he emits and I want to wrap my arms around him and love him for a long, long time. 

"How long is forever?" Alice once asked, and that goofy white rabbit that reminds me a lot of my friend Sean answers her, solemnly, "Sometimes, just one second." 

And I get that, because every moment, every tick of that red hand on the clock that goes by feels like an eternity in and of itself, one little forever going by, and suddenly we find ourselves in another forever. And this goes on and on and on, and each time I'm afraid that when the forever ends, the tiny little forever, that it will be the last.

Suddenly, I'm trying to stop this world for five minutes, just to give ourselves some kind of chance. 

So, it's like this: I'm in love for the second time in my life and it feels so amazing. No, no, he doesn't love me back. It's exactly the same as it was before, you know, loving someone without their consent. Quietly, to myself I love him, but my mind is like a wide open field, and there's room for so much noise, I don't even need him to know, not yet. 

Part of me thinks, though, that he must know. He's a great liar, always been an actor and forever gifted at concealing anything he knows or even the slightest hint of an emotion. So, I guess he might know. He might know because I scratch his back to show I love him. I sleep on his couch and dream of him and make him ramen noodles whenever he wants. I love him through actions, like fast responses over text messaging and snuggling gently into his side as an apology or out of sheer joy.

He must know. But, then, if he knows, then, maybe, what if, he feels the same way?

When he hides my shoes to keep me from going home at night, is that love?

When he demands he buys me a milkshake because I'm utterly broke and would rather he pay for it than my best friend, is that love, too?

Or when he touches me, lays his hands on my head, leans on me, is that him loving me?