Just a Secret

Oh, you have my heart.
But you can keep it. Please keep it. It’s all yours. Keep it safe, is all I ask.I am so glad I met you. Stay here now, and I will too.

You have my heart. And he has yours. And you have his. Don’t change that, No, no.

You have my heart, but I am not selfish. You are his, let it be this way, it’s the most perfect, yes yes yes yes yes.

You are there, he is there, I am here.
You are his, he is yours, and me? Only my thoughts’, my books’, and my lousy and poor attempts at bits and pieces of writing dedicated to you, that you will never ever read.

Unread dedications and non mutual feelings and my beating heart and and and, the list is endless, you know?

This is life. This is my life. But, just a secret? I often wonder whether the warmth if we lay side by side, would be much like the warmth that fills the air when we indulge in our endless conversation about this, that and everything in between. I often wonder whether the unison of our lips would be as electric as all the times you’ve laid your head on my shoulder or grazed my arm or spoken my name. I often wonder whether you’d have welcomed me with arms wide open to everything that is yours, if we’d have met then.

You have my heart.
Oh, you have my heart.