When I met you, I was unaware of what I was getting myself into.
You had always been just a point on a map,
eyes I have seen in the past.
Now, you are so much more.

You are chain-smoking menthols at midnight.
You are gripping of fingers and name calling.
You are lists of movies to watch and songs to listen to.
You are stolen sweaters and beanies,
beach trips to see your parents,
shots of ***** and Halloween Sweetarts.

As my breath rose in my chest,
you held me close and told me you weren’t going anywhere.
I can only hope you meant it because when I look at you,
I feel a whole new panic attack rising and it is
not because I am scared but
because all I want to do is kiss you
and remember what it is like to be alive.

My shower feels empty
without you pressing me up against the tiles.
I can’t kneel with the water dripping down my face
without thinking of the chance I got to look up at you
with droplets gathering on my eyelashes.
My bed is an insincere hug from a stranger
when you aren’t holding me to your chest and
tangling your legs in the sheets.

We are sitting next to each other
in a room full of people we call our friends
and you see all of them.
and even though our bodies are pressed together
you don’t see me.
I can only think you are trying to forget my features
in  hopes that I won’t be stuck in your mind.

And now you say we need to slow down
like these past two weeks of
gasping breaths and shaking hands resting on sweaty faces
never meant a thing to you.
Like sharing cigarettes and secrets
past midnight on my balcony
was just something you did with all the others.

Slowing down feels more like an excuse
for not being able to understand
where this began and how it will end.
I don’t care to know.
I only want to do this until it kills me
because your eyes save my life
every single time
so I know I will live forever.

I keep hoping you’ll walk through those doors
and hold onto me the way you did when I mattered more
than just a time waster and one worded text messages.
Than calling off dates and pretending like there isn’t something between us.

Tell all your friends
that you don’t look at me as if I grabbed the moon
and handed her to you.
That you didn’t feel something much bigger than both of us
when I leaned against you
and smiled as if nothing could hurt me.

Maybe, I am just another Icarus,
flying too close to the sun but
I’ll let it destroy my wings
if that means I can get a chance to feel
the warmth on my skin
for just a second more.