I guess it became too much for you, how I loved you out loud and unashamedly. I couldn't be yours, no one ever truly belongs to one person. A connection this fitting, a kiss this deep, couldn't be the real thing. When I whispered in your ear, "it's only you," the words trickled and danced down your spine like they belonged there, but that couldn't be it. I rest my head in your lap because you feel like home, your lips taste familiar, you smell of reminiscence, and your eyes read as if they heard my story before; yet you resist me. When you do those things, darling, it is not me you need to question. It is yourself you must ask, "why not?"