amy

one day i want to close my eyes and open them again to find you sitting next to me on this train. you'd look at me and say, "i never left, i was always here with you." your eyes would blink in a way that would reaffirm my firm belief that you can't live without me.
it would be nice to hear that. perhaps not. not contrived.
i want the ocean, big and blue, and sometimes green and brown mixed. i want to discuss the possibility of gnomes and whisper fairy tales i don't know and laugh with you till i die.
i want to bake fresh bread from scratch and feed you breakfast in bed sometimes, and fall asleep in our park on a sunny day when we could be doing a million other things instead, but we wouldn't because right there, in that moment, we'd feel bliss.
enough not to feel like we missed out on anything in life.
we have each other.
every breath, every sigh, every moment, every cry, i want you standing beside me, tall, reaching up high towards the sky because that's what i'll be doing and i hope you'll try too, because that's really all we can do and i really really want to be here with you.
always sitting here with you.