My Heart ' s Confession

I fell in love with her like the moon falls for the tide—
Always pulling, always reaching, but never touching.
Last year, when the world still made sense and I could breathe without her,
I didn’t know the storm I was walking into.
Now, my heart is a ship lost at sea,
Tossing in waves of thoughts of her,
And no matter how far I try to sail,
She’s the shore that I can’t find.

If love were an organ, she would be the heartbeat,
The one that keeps the blood rushing through my veins,
Even though we’re miles apart.
But I am only a skeleton, empty of flesh,
Bare bones aching for what is not here.
My hands reach out, but they grasp nothing—
Just air, like an empty promise.

I would give her my heart, wrapped in tissue paper,
Delicate and pulsing, fragile as glass,
A gift that could shatter in a second if she were careless.
But I know—she would never drop it.
She would hold it like a secret,
Like a treasure that only she could understand.
And still, I’d offer it to her—
Not knowing if it would ever be enough.

I wish I could collect the pieces of myself I’ve left scattered around this world—
My notebooks, my thoughts, my dreams,
The tiny crafts of paper and ink that have held the fragments of my soul.
But those things are just dust.
The real treasure is buried deep inside me,
And it’s hers, even if she doesn’t know it.
It’s buried in every letter, every thought,
Every time my heart races when I think of her.

But I am only a body, cold in the dark,
Cuddling a pillow that’s not her,
Pretending that it’s her touch, her warmth,
Just for a moment, just for a breath.
The pillow is soft, but it isn’t her—
No amount of fabric can replace the warmth of her skin,
The rhythm of her heartbeat that would sync with mine.

I dream of her in every class,
In the sound of a note in band,
In the silence between words in theater,
In the soft shuffle of PE sneakers on the gym floor.
I carry her with me, even in history,
Where time feels like it could stretch on forever,
But I’d rather be lost in her eyes,
Even if that time is just a dream.

I’ll hold onto the teddy bear,
Because it’s the only piece of her I have right now,
Even if it’s not real.
Even if it’s just a lie I tell myself,
It’s all I have to keep my heart from breaking.
When I close my eyes, I pretend her hands are holding me,
Her fingers tracing my skin like a soft confession,
And for just a moment, I’m not alone.

I know I’m a hollowed-out version of myself without her.
I know that if I could, I would give her everything—
My soul, my breath, my every heartbeat—
But the distance makes it impossible.
And so I live with these dreams,
With these aching metaphors of love that feel like they might swallow me whole.

But still, I hope—
I hope that one day,
She’ll hold me like I’ve held her in my mind,
That her lips will press against mine
And all the love I’ve kept locked inside me
Will spill out like a flood,
No longer held back by space or time.

Until then, these words are all I have to give.
And even if they aren’t enough,
I’ll keep writing them,
Because it’s the only way to make her real,
Even if only in my mind.