I’m scared to tell you what I feel
because I’ve never felt this before.

I looked up ways to say “it”
and you would have found them funny.
I certainly did, but

You, holding me, is the one place I want to be.
You, caring for me, doesn’t feel real.
You, being vulnerable, weakens the walls I’ve built around my heart.

I wish there were more ways to say “it,”
more ways to express my heart, my brain, my bones.
“It” is the soft skin behind your knees,
the weight of your hand in mine,
the crinkles around your eyes.

I simultaneously want to have just met you
and have known you for a century.
Could we try to jump through time,
live in medieval Scotland, and
shiver together in a stone home?

If you ever read this,
I hope it doesn’t scare you.
It would be a shame to experience a heartbreak
so soon after knowing what “it” feels like.