things I have to accept

Sometimes, when my finger gets caught between the pages of a book I'm reading, or when there is a gap between words in a conversation, I wonder who you could have been - the colour of your eyes, what your laughter sounds like, how many stitches you've had since you were a kid, what makes you scrunch up your face in disgust, who breaks your heart. And I have to be okay with the fact that these are things I'll never know.

I'd like to see what you see when you look at me.

This is our secret, and no one else's.