I just want you
to sit on this bench
next to me

I just want to feel
your side sitting next to mine
sharing the warmth
on a cold december night

I want to hear you say your thoughts
straight up, no filter
on what has been bothering you
what has made your brow
all the more furrowed

I want you to say more than your troubles
I want to hear your inspirations
what makes you cry
and laugh
and think, most of all, think
think about the stars and how they effect us
and when you lean close to tell me about the stars
I just want our necks to somehow touch
for a second
one short second
just one

I want your hand to settle beside mine
the fingers barely touching

I just want to hear your voice
calm and confident
but if I do,
I’m not sure if I’ll be able
to say anything back

my throat will seal up
and my tongue will become heavy as wet plaster
and will stick to the roof of my mouth
unable to respond
to even a carefree, “the stars are out”

while we stare up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers
pasted on a the ceiling
it’ll be so dark
we won’t be able to see each other
just the green stars

and maybe our lips will brush by
only
fully
touch
for a second
one short second
just one
one

soft and sudden like a pea-dose of splattered paint.