I almost wrote about you
about your curls and your small hands and your maroon sweater that you stole from american eagle
how teardrops slid down your cheeks when you told me about things you haven't said out loud in years
how teardrops slid down your cheeks when I told you that I have had a similar trauma
the way you held my face in your hands when you kissed me as the sun rose and how safe I felt when you held me tightly during the thunderstorm that rattled all the doors in the house for hours and hours

but then you told me you weren't ready to feel things
(I should have seen that coming)
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