Irreality.

Wondering when feelings become fact.
I can break us down into moments of unspoken affection, sweet nothings, sweet somethings and intellectual progression. We're something special... I think-
- with you, but never against you. Won't blink cause when I open my eyes I may not be against you.
I can undress you in my mind.
I know your lines, I know your stride, the curvature of spine and the shadows in your eyes.
I long to know more.
Wondering when this accessory became necessity.
When I let my guard down just a bit and found you next to me- maybe not forever-
but for now I am lucky.. No, I'm blessed to be excessively indulged into your everything.
I want you to know everything there is to me, but I fear that you may steer from me.
I guess it's better that you hear from me, the person that I use to be.
Obstructions and obscurities.
Habits, inhibitions and insecurities.
Impurities, impurities.
Direct instinct tells me that this fact is actually fiction.
Begging of you to vindicate me of these convictions. Maybe I can't love, actually-
but prove this undiminishable and I may trust this irreality.