You're eyes look a lot like home
And that feeling swallows me up
And holds me, not tenderly, but with
A scorching intensity
That leaves me freezing with no way to warm my brittle bones
Whenever you blink
And that leaves me with a fatal hypothermia that I'll never recover from
Whenever you leave

I often build the house we could live in
With massive windows and towering ceilings
And an odd arrangement of candles that I'm so fond of
And you'll never see it but
That's ok.
And I do it all the hard way.
Because that's the truth about us.
It's hard and it won't ever happen but if it did
God wouldn't that be something

I could have kissed you in the car on the way to her house.
With the wind in my hair and the laugher in your eyes and It would have been so mind blowing and absolutely destructive

I could have kissed you in the park
While you were on the bench deciding what to do with me and I was pacing through the mud
Weighing my options like lead in my chest

I could have kissed you standing in your garage
Face to face in a competition
To see who would look away first. In front of all those people; in front of her and It would have been so terribly reckless and wonderfully stupid

But I often kiss you at your desk in biology two where we share a row separated by seas and planets and constellations that no one has seen before; four feet of endless distance.

It's the only place thats safe to lay my lips on yours because outside of my mind you have her. So I can't kiss you now.

I can't kiss you now.