And I wept myself to sleep that night because I had never before been so confused by love. 
I cringed and curled up in fetal position, grasping a hold of my chest so it may not intend reckless motions. 
I had to remind myself to breath, and for a few sustainable minutes hold my breath. 
Anything to settle the beating urge within me. A beating. Rapid heart-beats beating me whole from the inside out.                     I clutched my fists together, fury enough to pronounce war. I was in a battle. Sentiment and myself. 
I was overwhelmed. My least prediction was circling around in wayward precision, staring me down. 
And would I take back yesterday if I could? I don't know. Would I run away with him if I should? For good? 
If he meant it? If it were more, if it were love, if it were pure, if it were true? God knows. The moon knows. 
I sure as hell don't. I'm afraid. I'm haunted. I'm scared. I fear I might like you too much. 
I'm afraid. I'm haunted. I'm scared. I fear liking you too much may never be enough. 
And so you proceed. And so I weep. And so we both remain discreet, if tonight we sleep. 
Possibilities are endless. Tomorrows rising sun can change us. But tonight, we seek, 
from afar distance one-an-others unseen. If tonight, we dream, it will make no difference to our reality. 
The lonesome feeling is mutual.