stop waiting to tell him.
soon enough, he'll be off to god knows where
he'll build new friendships
have late summer night barbecues on his grassy front porch
with (many) expensive bottles of aged Pinot Noir.
he'll continue his education as a medical student
and eventually join the military
he'll get married to a nice girl
have three (many) kids
raise them better than any other father
and see them grow up to be the happiest versions of themselves.
but, by then he'll be 70 years old
with only a 10% chance he'll visit your country,
5% to your city,
1% to cross paths with you.
he'll forget about the first time you giggled at him
or how crispy mac and cheese was your favorite past time meal.
but you and him will remember snippets of good memories,
the first time you both scored a goal with the left foot,
the night you both ate 9 boxes of pizza with countless Coronas.
but also snippets of bad memories,
fighting with each other because of little insecurities
him accidentally breaking your finger bone
you'll never forget all your regrets
those days where you acted like you were strangers
just to play a game of hard to get
and right now
for being reluctant to tell him how much you actually
think about it; all this complexity,
and he will never know.