And I wept myself to sleep that night because I had never before been so confused by love.
I cringed and curled up in fetal position, grasping a hold of my chest so it may not intend reckless motions. I had to remind myself to be subtle, and for a few sustainable moments hold my breath.
Anything to settle the beating urge within me. A beating. Rapid heart-beats beating me whole from the inside-out. I clutched my fists together, fury enough to pronounce war. I was in a battle. Sentiment and myself. I was overwhelmed. My least prediction was circling around in wayward precision, staring me down. And would I take back yesterday if I could? I don't know. Would I run away with him if I should? For good? If he meant it? If it were more, if it were pure, if it were true? God knows. The moon knows. I sure as hell don't. I'm afraid. I'm haunted. I'm scared. I fear I might like you too much. I'm afraid. I'm haunted. I'm scared. I fear liking you too much may never be enough. And so you proceed. And so I weep. And so we both remain discreet, if tonight we sleep. Possibilities are endless. Tomorrows rising sun can change us. But tonight, we seek, from afar distance one-an-others unseen. If tonight, we dream, it will make no difference to our reality.
The lonesome feeling is mutual.