Default Title - The World Is My Own

I don't know

It started with a whisper. And that wasn't when I kissed her. I never really kissed her.
Teases, promises, worries, loves.
I don't think she knew. I knew. I knew that she had been chosen by my little brain for something. I didn't know what, or why. But something. I realize now that I should've seen it then. No I don't. It isn't over. I don't know what I'll come to realize, only that I will. It will become painfully obvious.
It's harder to love her now.
No it isn't. It simply surfaces less frequently. It still hurts with the same burning. It still makes me want to scream my adoration.
I don't think they know.
No. I don't tell her. I turn away, blushing slightly. Maybe not. I play her game, her dance. She doesn't realize she doesn't have to play it. I would do much for her even without those reminders and teases.
I don't think they know.
So much to say, but not the words to say it. And that is the tragedy of death. When you're alive, there's always the chance you might somehow manage to express everything inside of you. When you die, well...there is no more opportunity. And no one will ever have the chance to truly know you.
I don't think I know.