you cannot be mine to hold.

you were warm and
so was i, but maybe
not as much.

the warmth you radiated was
different

it was not like the sun's
nor like the stars up above

but instead
it was like the warmth of a
gentle embrace –
it was soft and
reminiscent of days
filled with nature and honesty

but i cannot love you.

no matter how warm you were
to the touch of my slightly colder soul,
it was not possible.

it wasn't because it was wrong

(what even is wrong nowadays?)

no, it was because
it isn't safe to love you

you made a strange place into a home
when i was already in one
you made glass bridges seem like something
worth walking over to reach you

gentle steps on a bridge meant to break
tiny, quiet, baby steps
slowly turn into the reckless steps
of a pre teen
and into the breathless gallops
of a teenager in distress and love

you are not my home, but god,
you are so close to it already

and so you see
you cannot be mine hold

this risk is too big for the both of us
and neither of us plans to pick up
what could be left of us

(we already aren't picking up
our residues now,
what more later on?)