I looked over at you..and when you questioned why I said, "I hate that I can't tell what you are thinking."
You smiled that beautiful smile of yours, the dangerous one, the one I could fall in love with..and said, "You'll never know."
Now it drives me crazy, you were the same, just as I remembered, just as I imagined..but somehow that is not enough. I want to know what you are thinking, because if you are thinking regret, it would kill me.
I can be anything to you, but I cannot be something you regret.
Please, don't ask me to be that..don't let me become that.

How nice it would be to just reach over and touch your face.
Feel the curves, smell your skin..skim my hand over your forehead and run my fingers through your dark hair.
How nice it would be, to lean over and brush my lips against yours..taste everything that you are to me, have been to me.
But you have altered who you were and became someone else, so it would not be who I knew before that I was touching, but someone new. Someone who may not laugh at my jokes, smile when you hear my voice, or love me when you see my name.
Can you see the risk I would be taking by touching you? By discovering that this whole time, it was not you who I imagined by my side, but someone else? Would you smell the same if it was not you? And would your hands still be a whisper brushing against my forehead? And would your kiss still taste as sweet as I remember? Or would the feel, sight, smell, taste be something new? And if it is something new, someone different..can it ever really be the same?

I think the city street at midnight is just about the loneliest thing.

The traffic lights unwaiveringly change their colors: green, yellow, red, green, yellow and red. No one is there to heed their warning, no one is there to follow their directions.

The water glistens under the street lamps hazy light and the shadows move silently on the breeze making the smallest ripple across the puddles trapped in the sidewalk.

For tonight, the only thing lonlier than me is the city street.