My Heart ' s Confession ( repost from my spacehey )

I fell in love with him like the moon falls for the tide—
Always pulling, always reaching, but never touching.
Last year, when the world still made sense and I could breathe without him,
I didn’t know the storm I was walking into.
Now, my heart is a ship lost at sea,
Tossing in waves of thoughts of him,
And no matter how far I try to sail,
He’s the shore that I can’t find.

If love were an organ, he would be the heartbeat,
The one that keeps the blood rushing through my veins,
Even though we’re miles apart.
But I am only a skeleton, empty of flesh,
Bare bones aching for what is not here.
My hands reach out, but they grasp nothing—
Just air, like an empty promise.

I would give him my heart, wrapped in tissue paper,
Delicate and pulsing, fragile as glass,
A gift that could shatter in a second if he were careless.
But I know—he would never drop it.
He would hold it like a secret,
Like a treasure that only he could understand.
And still, I’d offer it to him—
Not knowing if it would ever be enough.

I wish I could collect the pieces of myself I’ve left scattered around this world—
My notebooks, my thoughts, my dreams,
The tiny crafts of paper and ink that have held the fragments of my soul.
But those things are just dust.
The real treasure is buried deep inside me,
And it’s his, even if he doesn’t know it.
It’s buried in every letter, every thought,
Every time my heart races when I think of him.

But I am only a body, cold in the dark,
Cuddling a pillow that’s not him,
Pretending that it’s her touch, him warmth,
Just for a moment, just for a breath.
The pillow is soft, but it isn’t him—
No amount of fabric can replace the warmth of his skin,
The rhythm of his heartbeat that would sync with mine.

I dream of him in every class,
In the sound of a note in band,
In the silence between words in theater,
In the soft shuffle of PE sneakers on the gym floor.
I carry him with me, even in history,
Where time feels like it could stretch on forever,
But I’d rather be lost in his eyes,
Even if that time is just a dream.

I’ll hold onto the tatter,
Because it’s the only piece of him I have right now,
Even if it’s not real.
Even if it’s just a lie I tell myself,
It’s all I have to keep my heart from breaking.
When I close my eyes, I pretend his hands are holding me,
His fingers tracing my skin like a soft confession,
And for just a moment, I’m not alone.

I know I’m a hollowed-out version of myself without him.
I know that if I could, I would give him everything—
My soul, my breath, my every heartbeat—
But the distance makes it impossible.
And so I live with these dreams,
With these aching metaphors of love that feel like they might swallow me whole.

But still, I hope—
I hope that one day,
He’ll hold me like I’ve held him in my mind,
That his lips will press against mine
And all the love I’ve kept locked inside me
Will spill out like a flood,
No longer held back by space or time.

Until then, these words are all I have to give.
And even if they aren’t enough,
I’ll keep writing them,
Because it’s the only way to make him real,
Even if only in my mind.