Her
An old thought, so don't get your hopes up.
I can hardly process the fact that I am an influence in her life.
In her life?
It’s almost an unfathomable thought.
I forget, so simply, that we are coexisting creatures.
That when I hold her hand, she can feel the touch of my skin, warm against her coolness.
I feel like I’m not worth enough to take up space in her head,
To rent out an apartment in her thoughts.
I am merely meant to stay a figment of imagination.
That way she can love me, the way I do love her.
