Can you promise me that you do love me, even if it's not in that way?
Can you hold my hand safely in yours, fingers wrapped around mine, and guide me to where I need to go?
I can't leave here, because I can't leave you. I'm addicted now; like a moth to flame.
It's sick, that I slightly enjoy my own heartache. Like a muse, I find myself writing more, reading more, watching, learning, listening more. Like a flower opening up to sunlight, and accidentally letting all the bees in.
You know that scene from love actually, with Andrew Lincoln and Kiera knightly, and the big flash cards? He tells her that he loves her 'without hope or agenda'. I can't. I will always hope; it's my one weakness, my downfall in front of you, that I can't stop hoping.
Maybe one day you'll fall for me. Maybe it will be the same day I stop hoping.
But whilst nothing changes, I won't make my feelings your burden or guilt.
I will tell you that you are beautiful, and really mean it.
I will tell you that I love you, in the best way.
I will hold your hand if you need a friend, and I will help you get where ever you want to go, because I want to go there too.