I know you think about me, more than you probably should, perhaps in more ways than one. The crumpled paper with struck through lines possibly has my name written all over it. It's hard not to look at you and think of what we could have become. Your brevity, my oddity, we could have been them, hopelessly and carelessly in love, throwing caution to the wind, building castles on the sand, crashing against the rocks like waves, rising and falling with the tide, sweeping away everything like a hurricane with nothing left but our bare, naked selves to begin a new evolution with. 

I cannot stop thinking about you and maybe this is the beginning of something that will destroy us both. But I am absolutely ready to take that fall with you, because I also cannot help thinking that maybe, I am slowly and hopelessly falling in love with you anyway. 

Aren't you tired of running around in circles? Because God knows I am! There's him, there's her and there's us. I haven't said much, but sometimes I wish you could hear the things in my head, the conversations I have with you in my head. I picture us lying together, not saying a word and yet, understanding each other perfectly, our bodies in sync, catching rhythm to every dropping beat playing in the background in our heads, our fingers maneuvering the contours that hide secrets deeper than the ocean, my thoughts galloping with yours in the abyss that we both know so well. Like in a drunken reverie, incoherent sentences fail to describe how this is all too real for me. I wish you knew that I want the same things as you. I wish the tremor that breaks me from the insides, every time you touch me, broke you into a million little pieces too. But then again, there's him, there's her and here we are, free to choose, but not free from the consequence of the choices we make.