in my mind, this moment ends with a kiss.
you have carried me a thousand miles on your laughter and i know that i will never deserve a single foot of it.
it's three forty three, according to my watch. i am running late, as usual. i slept on your right, pressing to get as close to you as i possibly could, also as usual.
i wanted to kiss your forehead when i stood to leave; i could see you breathing in the dark and i knew that this moment is as close as i will ever get, i knew that my cowardice would make sure that i would never admit how i felt.
now, i am standing on the sidewalk in front of your house, beneath a dying oak, watching the leaves blow by.
i had promised that i would tell you last night, promised that i would say something like,
"and it's alright, alright, if you don't love me, but i'll be damned if i let you go on not knowing how i've always loved you,"
and you would make that face that you give me when i do something sweet for you, when i carry your groceries or open your