This Is Fiction, Not Fact

"let me search your pockets, behind your ears, inside your heart, for the sweetheart i foolishly keep thinking you’re hiding from me. sharing stories from your past or the small consideration of letting me get the side of the couch that i prefer — it’s the little things like that that make me fall further. and the moments i only remember feeling, but don’t remember happening only pulls me closer to you making me believe you’re much more softer than the tough outside armor of metal you pretend to wear. and underneath the sheets, where we whisper secrets using both our lips and bodies, i try to read the way you move and hear the hints hidden between the words you speak and it all makes me oh so weak.. weak in the knees, weak in the heart, weak in my mind where i should know better than this, but you make it so hard that i’m just constantly clueless in playing this guessing game of who you really are: the boy who’s going to love me forever or the boy who’s going to break me in half? i wish i knew ahead of time, but i never do, i never do. though that doesn’t seem to matter when i’m so in love with the idea i have of you."