I Can Almost Believe that I'm Almost Enough

Sometimes I wonder if I feel the same way about you that you feel about me. Wouldn't that be wonderfully revealing?

I am not accustomed to showing the depths of my feelings with any kind of freedom from fear. I have learned to give bland expressions of how I really feel in order to protect myself in the future. This iron mold has cramped my muscles and warped my lips into frowns. It has crushed my wings, it has twisted my ankles, it has deafened me.

I must break free, because honestly,

I miss everything about you. I miss your laughs. I miss when you kiss my forehead. I miss walks. I miss holding your hand. I miss being silent with you. I miss the hallway in Frey. I miss how you smell. I miss how light my heart feels when you're around. I miss the butterflies that form in my stomach whenever you walk in. I miss how you tower over me. I miss your smile.