I Want To Love You Impossibly
That’s what I want, with you—
the messy, the imperfect,
the impossible.
That’s what I want, with you—
the messy, the imperfect,
the impossible.
I can’t help but wonder whether the fire of your kiss will fade to a familiar warmth, or if your voice will become the track I hum to.
Home. The word itself sounds comfortable, soft in your mouth. It’s a reminder of how you were raised, where you grew up, the person you were.
You’re not the only one who’s afraid of empty halls and wishing stars—I’m afraid of the future, too.