Maybe I'm attached to you by the heart; and you to me, by the lungs.
Maybe without you, I'd die; but without me, would you still be able to breathe?
Every day, I spend at least 30 minutes staring at a blank phone screen wondering whether or not I should press "Send."
Why are we pretending like we don't know why we're saying sorry, when it's pretty obvious that we do?
Many times, I'm left wondering whether or not you feel the same way as I do about you.
I'm looking into your eyes, trying to build a glass wall while holding back the rivers that might let you into my soul.
Maybe this silence is comfortable for you, but too many silences like this will one day create a chasm that we'll never be able to cross.
We'll keep wiping our emotions away, like tears, all the while carrying our hearts on our sleeves.
We're sitting across the table like two strangers passing in a hotel lobby.
Your laughter crashes upon me like seismic waves, forming fissures all along my glass heart that could shatter at any moment.
I wonder if you know that every word you speak to me over the phone pierces my heart like a dagger, and that I spend the next hour and forty minutes trying to recover from that blow.
I'll make noises like I'm listening, when what I really want, is to go.