he's surrounded by rain,
it consistently falls around him and I consistently fall into him;
it's always been that way.
we've never held hands
let alone stolen a kiss,
but we've danced;
and that's kind of like holding hands anyways.
he did say he loved me,
but he only said it once.
twice would've wounded me,
three would've killed me.
and frankly a fourth would've healed me.
but the road was long
and the directions were far too obscure.
and now he's gone.
706 miles,
far
too
gone.
I've written so many unsent letters
because I write novels
and he writes sentences,
so why bother anymore?
and I can't believe I still write about him,
because he was only a one-time-I-love-you,
and I deserved more than just a couple words.
but like I said,
the rain consistently falls around him,
and I consistently fall into him;
some kinda love, isn't it?
