2:30 am, and I'm writing. . .

your heart runs like a train 

steady on it's track

driving down the same old path

constantly reminding me of who you are

and how much I trust you.


while mine is a stray dog,

wandering here and there

never finding home

in a place,

never finding self 

in a name

never finding love

in you face. 


for you are never mine

and forever will be my desire

unless I finally put out the fire,

drench the flames of my affections

with the water of "just friends" 


but it's hard

for every day you grow more gorgeous  

every hour your eyes shine brighter

every second you laugh it gets louder

and every moment I feel this love for you. 


you are flawed to perfection 

beautiful beyond appearances 

kind hearted and brave.

and I love you.


I love every single irresistible, forbidden, piece of you. 

I love you more than the sky's summer tears

and the delicate rays of the moon

I love you more than freshly baked pie 

and just-blossomed-springtime blooms 


but this question still remains, 

do you love me?

I think not.

but I don't really know 

so I can't go around saying so 


I'll have to ask you

my hands tremble at the thought

how would I tell you?

and how would you respond?