Not because I want to  be free, just because I want to be yours. Everything around us distracts you from seeing how good we could be. I want you to lean on me, like how I want to lean on you. I want you to think me necessary, because I never am. Do you know how hard it is to be this disposable?

They'll never take us alive.

Quiet and subtle, we’ll creep into each other like silent little souls, searching for homes. Nothing fancy, just something modest to keep out the cold. Slowly, we’ll search us for something familiar, a warm corner in the hearts of each other, to sit in and sleep in and hide from grenades in; a barricade in the war by the world to turn us into bloodied and battered shells of potential. 

We’ll crawl into each other with our heads both bowed, hoping for floorboards and windows and sounds of breezes and whispers and gentle fingers on faces before reaching for slumber. Heads on laps and faces on faces, gaze meeting gaze, knowing in silence; time standing still with each breath. Heartache transcending through flesh and rib cages. 

We’ll preserve our youth and joy and laughter in all of these cages, fine-tuned and golden. In places the world can’t see, touch, reach. We’ll keep our hopes and our dreams alive, locked away, but still beating. We will be what they refuse to believe, but first gentle quiet delicate peace, radiating, resounding, reverberating through the walls, in each other. 

Shut those wild eyes and sleep for a while.