To the boy who doesn’t know he stole my heart: how does it feel being thief? Is it exciting? Does it weigh heavy on your mind? Do you even know of your infraction? I certainly know, because you have stolen my heart, and I am not entirely sure I ever want it back.
It didn’t hurt when you stole my heart like it has before when others tried to lift it from my chest. In fact, I didn’t even notice. From the moment I met you it started. It was slow, but steady. A smile here. A joke there. You didn’t take my entire heart in one heist, instead, you took it in many small pieces over a long period of time. With each day, you seemed to steal another small piece.
When others have attempted to snatch it, I was always aware. I saw the signs and raised my walls to guard myself. With you, however, it was so inherent and gradual that no red flags were ever raised. I was completely ignorant until one day you passed me and I noticed the butterflies and how my eyes followed you. I noticed the light in your eyes when you talk about things you are passionate about. I noticed how when we spoke you truly listened and didn’t just nod your head. The longer I was with you, the more I wanted to know about you. I cared about every bit of you I realized that I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you because when I am with you, I am truly happy.
To the boy who doesn’t know he stole my heart: what did you do with it? Did you tuck it under your pillow like a child waiting for the tooth fairy? Did you stow it in a secret place where you can keep it safe? Or is it floating around you like data in cyberspace waiting for you to receive it? Would you receive it? Is your heart floating somewhere near me and I am just too blind to see it?
To the boy who doesn’t know he stole my heart: that is the best part of this beautiful mess we seem to be in. You don’t know you’ve done it. You had no alternative motives, you weren’t looking for anything from me, and you simply were yourself and managed to make me fall for you.
Or do you know? Have you known this whole time? Have you offered up small pieces of your own heart that I am unaware I have even taken? Are you feeling the same way I am? So confused, yet feeling so understood in the presence of the other. If so, why haven’t you let me know? Are you just as anxious as I am?
To the boy who doesn’t know he stole my heart: don’t give it back. I am happy you have it. I trust you with my stolen heart. However, the question is, will you trust me with yours?
