i dream of us,
me,
and you.

i’m a poet (?), and i have a voice,
and sometimes i think you want that voice
-ridiculous, because your voice is captivating, alluring, angelic.

but it could be true,
and it could be true you like my voice?
i dream.

and i imagine us wearing jackets,
looking beautiful and confident,
arms wrapped around us and forehead kisses.

girls at football games, girls at dances,
twirling you around,
burying my face in your neck and inhaling.

we could be beautiful.
we could be teen love, and teen heartbreak,
teen queens. teen goddesses.

and every night, i could want you,
but only if you wanted me back,
strong like me.

and we could be a secret,
hiding behind friendship,
and friends who love kisses and holding hands.

swetheart, i could call you that, right?
sweetheart, we can be whatever you want us to be,
and i’d be so lucky to be your friend.

but see those girls
-those could be us,
if you just told me.

you could kiss my neck,
whisper or confess,
or surge forward. i’d welcome you.

please,
please,
tell me.

whoever you are.