Ever since you explained bubble theory to me, I've been more aware
Of bubbles joining and breaking
Of people joining together.
People faking.

I've been avoiding you.
For almost 24 hours now.
I was scared the next time we met, you'd have your bubble and I'd have a fence.
Only just now, I've realized it's much worse than that.

I'm raw.  Exposed.
And you're in your **** bubble.
I've let myself become vulnerable to you.
The damage is done.

I can't touch you.
Because every touch is a promise of what could have been.
What won't be.
A reminder that you shouldn't mean nearly this much to me.
And that despite all your pretty words, and they are just words:
I am nothing to you.

Even as I write this poem, I want to deny that it's true.
This is me, screaming that I want you.
And though you'll never see, I can't help but hope
That maybe, just maybe, when I showed you this site you took note.

Though I know sometimes it's wrong, being with you feels right.
There's this feeling that I'm trying to fight.
I'll do my best never to act on it,
But what I really want is to steal your first kiss.

There.  I said it.
And since you know me so well,
figure out whether it's better to kiss or to tell.