I'm still hung up on you, you've probably noticed. Actually. You seem quite modest, maybe you've never noticed how completely obsessed I am by your existence.
If you ceased existing tomorrow I don't think I'd ever find another you. You encapsulate everything I wish those other boys had been. They were never you, and you rarely ever wanted me.
If you'd wanted me maybe I'd have been different. Maybe I would have wanted you less, or maybe you would never want me enough.
But right now I feel we'll never know. Never know if what we could have had would have been everything I'd hoped and more.
But then how could it have possibly been more? I plunged into you, the idea of being with you, all my hopes and dreams. To wake up and be "over you" seems impossible because that would mean forgetting those dreams.
You were such an intrigal part of my life from your distance up there on that pedastool. Maybe those around you don't see what I see. How could anyone else possibly see what I see? This boy. This person, who I am ompletely in lust with.
If I could have ust one more moment with you. Just one brush of skin to skin. Just one meeting of our lips. Just one touch of our hands. Then, maybe then, I would die happy.