I dream of that day
That I rested in your arms.

My lips on the nape of your neck.
My fingertips on your collarbone.
My heart in your hands.

Sometimes moments
Don't need to last forever
In order to stay
For a lifetime.

You'll always be
A part of me.
And I you.

Talk all day
Type our fingers sore
Refresh, refresh
We beg for more attention than we get
We share so much that
We know everything about each other
Our thumbs are raw
You can see the bones
I typed you novels
You called my phone
We talk all day
We don't take breaks
So why don't you know
I'm not okay?
Why can't you look me in the eye?
If we talk all day why can't I talk to you in real life?

13 years old, the back of a haunted hay-ride pick-up truck, wearing a bright yellow bee costume. He grabbed my hand like it was going to break, but my heart was whirring like a jackhammer because he had nice eyes and played guitar.

We talked shyly all day, and I remember each passing glance as we both tried to pretend we weren't looking at the other.

Evidently we pretended a little too much, because it was Katie he ended up kissing in the pumpkin patch that night. Not me.

That was the end of our love story.