Maybe I love you.
Maybe I don’t.
I think it when I’m lying next to you, I think it in an empty bed. I never say it out loud because I’m afraid of it suddenly being too real.
Just like any other thought, I let it pass. Except it never does, it sticks.
This time, I let it stick.
I’m not certain how you feel, but I see it in fleeting moments.
I see it when you smile at me when I’m not looking; I see it when you subconsciously pull me back in your sleep when I roll away to free your arm. You pull me right back, somehow even closer.
I see it when we’re being complete idiots. I see it when we laugh.
There’s something there, I know it. I feel it.
I don’t have the words to explain what it is I feel in those moments, but now I know how people can predict a storm when it’s seemingly sunny.
And let it consume them completely anyway.
Here I am, standing here with open arms, waiting for the sky to pour down on me.