you're sleeping as i write this
dreaming gentle things
your bottom lip, pouting
the last thing i want to do is wake you -
and mess all of this up

i haven't told you that i love you
i'm sure that's what i feel, but the words
themselves
feel
meaningless

i love how you look when you're sleeping
i love your bed head -
straw-colored hair having a mind of its own
i love the gentle rise of your chest -
tempting me to come over and listen to your heart's voice
i love your big dumb feet sticking out from underneath the blanket -
probably deathly cold but still belonging to you

i love this boy in my bed
dreaming gentle things -
being a gentle thing himself

going home isn’t always
returning to a place.
sometimes
it is returning to yourself.

no girl just wants a boy friend,
                                       they want a best friend

You are my unsent message.
The cursor blinking rhythmically,
With my heartbeat,
Waiting,
For me to hit send.
But I am not ready,
And I’m not sure if I ever will be
So I left it like that.
Unsent. Unseen. Unread.
“I miss you.”