We read our books and pretend to
not make glances at each other.
We smile as if the pages in the book had tickled at our sides.
We write love stories in our heads and forget about the ones on the page.
An uncomfortable warmth surrounds us as we pretend not to pose ourselves in our chairs.
As if we are offering ourselves to the sun to immortalise this youthful love.
Our hands quiver as we turn each page.
Like these stories will ours come to a brief
end?
And though you and I are nothing,
destined for
deletion,
taunted by
extinction.
We pray that these feelings are more than that.
But when I see the stars in your eyes my worries float away,
for I know this love is cosmic.