1.28.18

a conversation underneath the cherry glow of Christmas lights I'd prefer to leave up year-round.
they set the mood nicely, I think.
especially for this conversation, this one in which she asks me- "Do you like her?"
I smile and say, "Of course I like her, why wouldn't I?"
but the initial question wasn't as simple as the four words presented it.
she delves in deeper and I smile, I smile, I smile, and I confess.
I confess there is something there; something there standing on the precipice of my heart, something in which I beg not to jump and fall and drown in the murderous waters of feelings.
there's something there, but she's not her.
she's not her, and as much as I wish that wasn't a problem-- it is.
it's a problem because I'm too afraid to be hurt by anyone else, to the point where the possibility of love is a tired concept and my heart feels too old to be damaged any more.
"It's just... the way you look at her."
goddamn, if only you knew how many times I've been told that because it has been far, far too many.
if you think the way I look at her is something special, you haven't even seen the half of it.