but who am i to even care

the leaves of this plant next to me are blackening a little more every day i sit at this desk, but i'm not watering. i feel the heart-shaped anvil against my adams apple every time i sit at this desk and look at my phone and see a message from you. i know we rarely (ahem never) smile in our texts and we don't converse with our phones but the fairly frequent message that only says "5:30" holds all that promise that i'll get to see you tonight. we don't have to talk about it, because we know we always have things to do together.

i like that you know i get home at 5:20. when you didn't come over for two summer months my family asked about you.  even when i saw you that morning. i like that couch at your kitchen table, and the pencil in your hat. i like your hat. i like your hair a lot more, though.

drives to hart's for hot chocolate, just means we'll be out til 2 a.m.
one time you were still here when my dad woke up for work.
we text during class. next to each other. (our teacher definitely knows but she thinks it's sweet.)
we've never touched.

you can't have two disasters together, but you're the realest thing i know. thank you, for introducing me to love. (it's nice [it hurts] to meet you.)

i know, this post could never do you justice