We danced outside of the plane of our own existence arm in arm in mind in body and we pranced there, hoping.
Hoping for something
We pretended we had never felt this before, had never gone here, and that we were the first visitors, together.
Hoping against hope
But how can I prove I exist
If I don’t love you?
If I don’t imprint on you?
If I don’t change you in some fundamental way and then every other experience ever after is tainted a little bit by me?
Hoping for the sake of
Stay by me.
We kissed like we’d kissed a million times before the exact same way and felt the exact same thing and so we kept doing it because what else is there to do, really, besides?
So full of hope
But how can you prove you mean it
If you don’t give your love to me?
If you don’t make me weak?
If you don’t leave me broken to pick up the pieces of what I thought we meant and reassemble myself into something similar and yet still be the real me?
Hoping hope is real at all
Help me see.