There is a part of me
that wants to sneak you a slip of paper.
Maybe under your door on a humid night,
Where I could slip away
and quickly turn vapor.
The paper wouldn’t be ordinary,
short and quaint,
but the moment you read it,
there would be no restraints.
At this moment,
I have no desire for anything more.
I know that it is not the right time,
but eventually we will both come upon that door.
And when we do,
I will be bold,
for I can foresee exactly
what this can hold.