Everything

He could be my everything. That’s the real problem. That and the fact that he has no interest in such an idea. No interest in me half the time. Or so it feels. Despite what he says. Despite what he tells me. It’s all those actions or lack there of that speak louder than his words.

So close sometimes. Closer than I’ve ever been to anyone. And yet we know so little about each other. We share so little about ourselves. Our pasts could be twins, and yet we never talk. Not about anything that matters. Because we’re afraid. For different reasons but, afraid none the less. Like children. Like ghosts. Like shadows.

I wait. I worry. I wonder. Why he acts the way he does. Why my heart beats the way it does. Why he has to be the one. My everything.