It’s funny how you make me feel. I feel so happy despite myself. Wishful. Safe in this bubble.. Trapped in my own thoughts of you. Nothing has to happen. No.. Nothing has to change.. I want to keep this to myself. All mine. Reality might spoil it.
And I know that when it will slip out of my tongue, I’ll watch tragedy come to life. From the light, ideal images in my head. It’ll unfold to conflicted intentions, unmet expectations or assumed feelings.. It all will become a blur. It will all become nothing. Pointless.
No, I am selfish like this. I just want this to be mine. To hold a hand made out of air. To just let it run in my head. Because either I want nothing. Or You. Yes. No in-bet weens. Just wishful thoughts of possibilities. Or Us.