i want to hold your hand
but the mere thought
of our fingers brushing
leaves my palms sweating
and chest pounding
i want to see you
but that requires you seeing me
and it makes me want to fold myself in,
all the parts of me i'm not proud of
there are too many
because to you i am only a fleeting star like all the rest in the sky
but to me you are long-lived galaxies taking up my headspace, lasting, lingering
even after the last star burns out.