You’ll bite your lip and smile, muttering that’s my girl, beneath the rasp of your voice. You’ll text me until I fall asleep, figuring out the sticks and stones I’m made of.
I’ll start to fill with hopeless emotions, making breakfast in the comfort of your big, flannel shirt. I’ll show up with a naked face and send careless texts of the pizza I ate for lunch.
I’ll take steps towards you with clouds beneath my feet.
To be with a girl that’s comfortable is to be standing at the edge of a cliff, having the power to push her off with the mere air in your words. Some guys will let her climb down while the ones free of guilt will push her, with no intention of being at the bottom.
And so, you’ll leave, because you can’t stand breaking my heart like the ones who stay.