In a perfect world, I would write you endless poems and recite them to you at the end of the night. You would hold me the way you did for that one week in September, and the outside world would remain silent as I listened to your heartbeat as we slept.
In a perfect world, you would go to work and on your way home you would tell me what shape the moon was. You would describe it's light, how it made you feel, and be completely gutted in telling me about all of the little things that happened to you throughout your day.
In a perfect world, I would have the courage to tell you that every time you touched me, there was a whirl pool going on in my stomach that I couldn't escape.
In a perfect world, I would be brave enough to tell my truth.
I wouldn't be a coward who hides behind her pen and paper hoping that if I write about you enough, I would somehow write you in love with me. Or on the contrary, write myself out of love with you.
I would tell you there wasn't one day that passes that you aren't the most important person in my life. I would tell you that every time I look into your eyes, my heart breaks knowing that you don't have eyes for me.
In a perfect world, maybe none of this ever happened. My feelings would disappear and I wouldn't have to feel like I am trapped inside of myself.
I often think "this is as good as it's ever going to get"
Being your best friend who watches you build a life that doesn't include me. I'll be your maid of honor, your child's God mother, second on your emergency contact list. But I'll never be the person who made your heart stop.
In a perfect world, my words would be read out loud.
I'm so in love with you.