not to you

all the last secrets. the things i say only because i am scared, only because i suddenly have courage, only because i want to believe that i can create magic. that i can rub my hands together hard enough, soft enough and magic will happen. will fall down on us like promises. that this year, will not be like last year, that next year, will be something different again. that moving, this constant moving into the future will bring us somewhere excellent and not just to our deaths.

i want to love you, and again not just you, because i want to love you in the most complete and the most pure way. like i want to tell you something, something that i can't even say to myself. something about being alive, or being about to die. we are all going to die, and where do we feel like we belong, and how do we live lifes that we can feel okay about. excellent about?

this is not to you. this is not to the other you, all the other yous, that i like to pretend don't exist. all the half loves, the times that never happened. all those phone calls, those expectant hearts being broken. there is nothing left. the time i had a crush on a boy i'd never met because he was a boy. the pure love of moments. i am not in love with you, i am in love with those times when i feel like i know you, when i feel like you know me. when i feel like we are all wrapped up together, and that we are flying, again.