We were never supposed to!!!!
We were never supposed to become this.
Somewhere between
the stupid jokes,
the late-night messages,
the little things you say
that stay in my head much longer
than they should—
somewhere in all of that,
you became someone I look for.
And now my phone lighting up with your name
can change my whole mood.
I hate how easily you do that.
I hate how I can read one little message from you
and carry it around for hours,
smiling like an idiot
over words that probably meant
far less to you than they did to me.
Sometimes I imagine what it would be like
if there were no reasons not to.
If I could text you
come over,
and you actually could.
If one of our conversations
didn’t have to end with
goodnight
when what I really want to say is
stay.
I imagine sitting beside you somewhere quiet,
our phones forgotten for once,
laughing about the things
we’ve already laughed about a hundred times.
I imagine finally seeing your face
when you say something that usually makes me laugh through a screen.
I imagine the first moment
our eyes meet
and neither of us has the safety of a screen
between us.
I wonder if it would feel
as dangerous as I think it would.
Maybe we’d both laugh nervously.
Maybe we’d look away.
Maybe we’d realize
we were in trouble long before that moment.
Because we already are.
We’re not supposed to like each other this much.
That’s the part I can’t explain.
I didn’t plan for you.
I didn’t ask for this.
I certainly didn’t mean
to start imagining things
I know I may never get.
And yet here I am,
missing someone
who still talks to me.
Longing for someone
whose name still appears on my screen.
Missing moments
that haven’t even happened.
That’s the cruelest kind of longing—
when the person isn’t gone.
They’re right there.
Just close enough
to remind you
how far away they really are.
So I’ll keep our little moments.
The jokes.
The teasing.
The messages I reread.
The things you say
that you probably don’t know
I’ll remember.
I’ll keep the version of us
that exists in between the lines.
Because maybe that’s all we’re allowed.
And maybe someday
I’ll have to accept
that some people can mean so much to you
without ever becoming yours.
But for now,
I’ll let myself want you.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Even knowing
we were never supposed to
like each other this much.
Somewhere between
the stupid jokes,
the late-night messages,
the little things you say
that stay in my head much longer
than they should—
somewhere in all of that,
you became someone I look for.
And now my phone lighting up with your name
can change my whole mood.
I hate how easily you do that.
I hate how I can read one little message from you
and carry it around for hours,
smiling like an idiot
over words that probably meant
far less to you than they did to me.
Sometimes I imagine what it would be like
if there were no reasons not to.
If I could text you
come over,
and you actually could.
If one of our conversations
didn’t have to end with
goodnight
when what I really want to say is
stay.
I imagine sitting beside you somewhere quiet,
our phones forgotten for once,
laughing about the things
we’ve already laughed about a hundred times.
I imagine finally seeing your face
when you say something that usually makes me laugh through a screen.
I imagine the first moment
our eyes meet
and neither of us has the safety of a screen
between us.
I wonder if it would feel
as dangerous as I think it would.
Maybe we’d both laugh nervously.
Maybe we’d look away.
Maybe we’d realize
we were in trouble long before that moment.
Because we already are.
We’re not supposed to like each other this much.
That’s the part I can’t explain.
I didn’t plan for you.
I didn’t ask for this.
I certainly didn’t mean
to start imagining things
I know I may never get.
And yet here I am,
missing someone
who still talks to me.
Longing for someone
whose name still appears on my screen.
Missing moments
that haven’t even happened.
That’s the cruelest kind of longing—
when the person isn’t gone.
They’re right there.
Just close enough
to remind you
how far away they really are.
So I’ll keep our little moments.
The jokes.
The teasing.
The messages I reread.
The things you say
that you probably don’t know
I’ll remember.
I’ll keep the version of us
that exists in between the lines.
Because maybe that’s all we’re allowed.
And maybe someday
I’ll have to accept
that some people can mean so much to you
without ever becoming yours.
But for now,
I’ll let myself want you.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Even knowing
we were never supposed to
like each other this much.
