3 and a half years from now, if our fingers are no longer intertwined, i know i'll see you someday at the bar down the road. i'd imagine you to be taller but donned with the grin i've grown to love as you pass me in the hallways. you owe me a drink anyway

with you, with you it feels like i'm going places - not that i have a destination in mind but usually i can't see past the finish line, but i can't see the finishing line with you. let alone a path off of the shore as the waves crashes against our ankles. but here i am, ashore caught between letting go and running to higher ground and i all see the sunset caught in your eyes. we both can't swim but at this point does it really matter? years from now, maybe they'll be cafés we've sat across the table from each other, whispers in the dark in cinemas as pictures dance across the screen. dancing like how two figures will attempt to one day. different sceneries and cities with a familiar face. little fairy lights decking the ceiling for countless of miles to go but all i can see is the moonbeam resting against your cheek.

i want to hold your hand at hospitals.
i want to kiss you at airports.
i want your scent against my skin.
i want to forget how to stay sober with you.

i would like to forget sometimes, in this dazed illusion you're one of the few things that seems to stay vivid around me. a glimpse of sunlight in the moonlight

you're the outline in blue tracing commotion in my mind.