I wish I were the one
you wait for online.
The one who makes you
bite your thumb,
hyperventilate,
enter a state of bliss and fear
as soon as you see my name.
Instead, it's the other way around.

I feel butterflies in my stomach,
in my chest,
in my lungs,
threatening to make their way
out of my mouth,
to spill out and run out in the open.

My fingers are too frozen
to type out two letters,
let alone an entire sentence.
They are too preoccupied
covering my mouth
to stop me from screaming
when you send me a message.

"hey. :)"

And before I could stop it,
the first butterfly
flutters out of me.

I always hid under the stars,
because they told me
they'd protect me
the way they protected you.
"It's the least we could do,"
they commented when
they thought I couldn't
hear them,
*"especially since we did
such a shoddy job
with the previous fella."

i reached out to catch stars. i caught you instead.

i fruitlessly waste time searching for the time i lost.

It’s already midnight.* Go to sleep, dear.
   You have a brand new day ahead of you.
He’s already in his bed,
   dreaming of someone else.
Why are you still wide awake,
   quietly proclaiming your love for him?
The only person who can hear your confession
   is you, the lovestruck insomniac.