the tales we have in mind are extravagant; those are meant to be shared to help grow scared yet precious feelings
It’s not your face that I want to dream about tonight, it’s mine—with my happiest smile—that if you look beyond my eyes, in it you’ll see your reflection—you being my lovely world.
Someday, we’ll pass by the tallest buildings of the city—together—with your eyes on the road and mine; you’ll carefully maneuver the steering wheel while we sing along to our favorite songs on the radio. I’ll glance at you with contentment as you squeeze my hand, and I’ll look from the rear-view mirror to the tinted window; I’ll quite see my reflection but the tears won’t be visible. I’ll not be able to decipher it, but I’ll have been feeling it running down my cheeks. Then I’ll realize that it’ll be the most beautiful yet most painful dream I’ll ever have.