“When I look back on how I fell for you, I always think it was because I was too young. But I’ve realized you have a way of making sure I never grow up.”
If we had met differently, perhaps I could have built a warm little fire for you, stayed close by your side, listened to your loneliness, and told you about my own troubles. If we had met differently, perhaps you could have lit a solitary lamp for me, its flame no bigger than a bean, and walked beside me, illuminating the mold on my heart and guiding me through my confused obsession.
But we met as we did, and were destined to be closest and yet farthest apart, separated by no more than a step and yet by the ends of the earth.
We have both grown up, and roots will never bloom.
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