Dear Him

There seems to always be one person. The one person in my head that never escapes. They have made a home in my head, with stories and a nice comfy bed and a room all to themselves. I think of them often, I think of you often. When im in bed and it's been a long day and I just want to form a sea in my eyes, I want you to be right beside me, your skin wrapped around my soul keeping my body from sliding to nothing. As if you, a being in whom I barely know, will protect me and use their heart to heal mine.
I think about you when I come home from a date that was too awkward, and too slow, and too plain. When I wasn't myself because you are myself, and I can't be me when I'm trying to make someone be you. I try to envision your hand bumping into mine, as opposed to the boy that so sadly and depressingly fell in love with me. A boy that thinks about me the way I think about you. And I try not to be rude, i try to love them, each one if them. But their hopes skyrocket with every conversation, and soon a pit has been dug that I can't seem to get out of.
I think about you when I scroll through Snapchat, searching for stories that I hope are yours, so I can learn of the life you have to tell, and the person that you have become. I try to move on past you, past the story, past your voice and your movement, but the world seems lighter, and my fears melt away, and all the little lights in the world seem a bit brighter and more
magical when I see a lock of your hair on a 5 inch screen at 3:38 in the afternoon.
I think about you when I'm at the top of the Ferris wheel, terrified of falling, with another boy scooting closer and closer to me. I want his face to be yours, I want to see you when I finally get the courage to open my eyes at the top. I need you to be there, looking at me the way he looks at me. I try, I try so hard love. I try to tell him that I just want to be a friend and I try to tell him that I don't want a relationship. But he is in love with me, and I am in love with you, and you seem to be a fading beam, surely disappearing into the atmosphere.
I think I fall in love a little too quickly sometimes; only with you tho. The thing is, i'm not entirely exactly sure what I have fallen in love with. The last time our skin met was years ago, in middle school, when we awkwardly decided to be friends. When I broke off what i wish I had back. I was a kid then, and you were too, and I know a lot more now, but I still don't know you. I go to school, I learn, and I prepare to get a degree in something that will keep me alive and running. But I wish that I could receive a degree in what makes me want to run in the first place. You. You, you, you make me realise that I need to move on, because I am pretty exactly positive that you forgot the whole ordeal that was me and you and smiling and playing video games when we were 8 and never texting because being was better and hiding and being elementary kids in love. The funny thing is that i am not entirely sure that you were in love with me. Your friends told me you were and so did your sister, but I wonder what you felt, and I wonder what you feel now. I wonder if you even feel, because love, I don't think I really do. Every replacement, every discovery of a new soul, every kiss, every awkward car space swirls my thoughts back to your little room in the back of my head.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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