I silently pray that you feel all this mushiness like me.
I want to know what you were thinking when our eyes are locked together for seconds.
I desperately want to hold your bare hands closed to mine.
I start jotting lots of wishes. One is that you'd know even before I need to spread all these out. But I guess for now I'd rather you don't.
Don't leave me yet. The parachute is not ready to take my fall.