Paper Cranes

Are those goosebumps on your arms? I'm sorry, maybe I'm making things a little cold, and even though it's out of my control, let me see what I can do. There must be a thermostat around here, somewhere.

Oh and if your warm I'll hold your jacket, and get you a glass of water.

Because that's all I do really. I make sure the doors are locked and everyone's asleep before I dare lay down and force my eyes closed. Maybe because I'm making up for all my mistakes or trying to make you like me. Probably I'm too afraid of living with guilt that I take every precaution to pretend it's impossible.

Either way, really.
All that matters is you, anyway. You're hungry? Here eat this taco I just bought. You're stranded? Wake me up, dear. I'll be there in 5.

This will probably never get published, it's more for my own personal collection of rantings, but what I really wish I could say is this: I will always do you a favor, but sometimes when I end up tired and alone, I wish you'd never asked. Because you never ask me to dances or even invite me to your parties. And you when you say "How are you?" I know you don't really care. Here's the catch: I care. I want to know how you are. I want to hold you when you cry and hear about your first kiss.

I've folded you a thousand paper cranes. My fingers are bleeding, covered in millions of paper cuts. I tried different patterns and different sizes, but none seem to make an impression. One day these cranes will fly, and you'll wish you'd held on. Oh, how my fingers sting.

And I keep crossing my fingers and looking at the sky whispering "karma karma karma" but it doesn't really seem to be working.

I'll see your heart, and I'll raise you mine.