It's a Thursday, I awake and think of you,
wondering if you're feeling better or
if you're still feeling vanquished.
My fingers automatically reach for my phone
and I text you, wishing you a good morning.
And as I wait for a response,
I wonder if your heart is beating as quickly,
failing your desire to remain calm, cool and collected,
just as mine is.
And as we play the roles we have played
for the past while,
I hope that you are smiling just as I am.
I hope that you are thinking of a way to see me again.
And finally, I hope that my face takes up your mind,
just as yours has invaded my own.

And then my heart bails out, it shifts and beats
to a different rhythm.
I think of him instead,
of his touch, his nonchalant words, the way he makes me
breathe faster.
It wasn't like the last time, he hasn't dropped me off of the
side of the earth.
He has been attentive, almost attached.
And I want to hope that it is because he feels something more,
but I don't want to hope for anything (anymore).
It is a different feeling, a different desire.
I want to help him, focus his attention on being happy.
But I realize, I want to be happy too,
and I think I can only get that from being with you.