"You're too close," I told  him. 

"You're so close, I hear you breathe, I see your fears, I hear your heart.

You're so close, I know your favorite color, I know what step you're going to take next, I know your friends, I know your smile. 

Not the one you give off to get rid of people or the one you flash quickly to get out of a situation, 

 your real one. 

The one that slowly comes across your face, exposing every layer of happiness that you've ever felt-

Just in one movement. 

The one that takes time to expand, brightens your eyes and tells a story in every wrinkle that crawls around your mouth. 

Your smile is like a package swallowing good news. 

You're so close, I know your dreams, I can feel your hopes and I can taste your aspirations. 

I can hold your hands and  read your mind. 

I can handle your thoughts and touch your laugh. 

I'm able to  feel every amount of hurt you've had in the past and expose myself to every tear you claimed you were "too strong" to shed--

But should have." 

The rain began to feel acidic, the touch of the outer world became too cruel for you and you started to drown. 

The weight of the atmosphere crushed your shoulders and fell on your ambition.

 The constant wants and needs of everybody  held each arm, 

pulling on you like a game of tug-o-war. 

The pressure to fit the roles of masculinity and fight the society on if you're capable to cry beat you down to the side of the road. 

You felt so small I could wear you around my neck.

You were brushed under the rug,

no one  dared to scratch the surface of the hurt that you dove head first into. 

The feelings of hopelessness demolished  your inside city,

built flames along your buildings, 

cracked your windows so your eyes were nothing more than shattered glass. 

Your smile stopped telling full stories, 

pages were stolen 

the only ones left were burned and frail; 

They fell apart even to the slightest touch. 

"You're too close," I told him. 

I'd rather have you be too close than this far away.