Titles
I tend to quote things when I write my titles... I don't know why. Maybe it's just because I like the things that i quote.
I just miss you. I want to be in your arms again, to be held by you for one more night, to listen to you breathe as we fall asleep, satisfied with just being together. I want to stand with you, wrapped up inside ourselves, while our spirits intertwine, and we move to a silent tune. I want to try to breathe you in again, until I'm intoxicated with your scent. I'm missing you so much right now, and I can't even explain what it is. The room is so empty and cold, thinking about how much your warmth fills my world.
Until I close my eyes, and smile to myself, thinking of your face, and how you shine. I can almost feel your hands against my skin, holding my face, holding me close to keep me warm. You keep me warm, balance my natural cool. The joy you bring, brightens my natural disposition towards the melancholy. Maybe I just think too much about all this. Maybe I try to hard to break it down into reasons and explanations, so that I can justify or explain what it is you do to me.
You make me feel alive. With you I'm a brand new person, fixed as though I was never broken. The person I have looked back upon, is not the person I have become and continue to see in myself because of you. You give me something that I'll never be able to define, and I hope I give you even half as much.
I'll never know what you see, but I'm trying. I'm beginning to try to look at myself through your eyes, but it's so hard. I still see all my flaws, still see the cracks in the polished surface. Then again, you seem to like the cracks, the imperfections. I love your imperfections, just as much as I love your perfections. It makes you more tangible to me, and all the more human and perfect, because you understand. I know you understand.
We are two people who have gone through wholly different lives, but somehow come to similar conclusions. Two different fields of experience, two different perspectives, that somehow manage to parallel and blend. I sometimes wonder what thoughts are mine, and which are yours, and if you somehow plucked them from my mind. Or maybe it's the other way around.
It doesn't make it any easier to be away, and the first chance I get, I'm jumping in that car, and coming to see you. I need to see you again, confirm your reality. I need to remind myself that I haven't just dreamed you into being. I need to breathe you in, taste your mouth, and look into your eyes until I drown, just to remind myself.
Sigh. Why is that these words always seem so clumsy, and never enough? Why can I only sum it up in three words? Why is that, even though I say them as often as I can, they still frighten me a bit? I can't even begin to fathom it, but I know that it's still getting easier. No matter how much it terrifies me, daunts me, confuses me, it still comforts me, gives me joy, and bring me perfect clarity. I love you.
I just miss you. I want to be in your arms again, to be held by you for one more night, to listen to you breathe as we fall asleep, satisfied with just being together. I want to stand with you, wrapped up inside ourselves, while our spirits intertwine, and we move to a silent tune. I want to try to breathe you in again, until I'm intoxicated with your scent. I'm missing you so much right now, and I can't even explain what it is. The room is so empty and cold, thinking about how much your warmth fills my world.
Until I close my eyes, and smile to myself, thinking of your face, and how you shine. I can almost feel your hands against my skin, holding my face, holding me close to keep me warm. You keep me warm, balance my natural cool. The joy you bring, brightens my natural disposition towards the melancholy. Maybe I just think too much about all this. Maybe I try to hard to break it down into reasons and explanations, so that I can justify or explain what it is you do to me.
You make me feel alive. With you I'm a brand new person, fixed as though I was never broken. The person I have looked back upon, is not the person I have become and continue to see in myself because of you. You give me something that I'll never be able to define, and I hope I give you even half as much.
I'll never know what you see, but I'm trying. I'm beginning to try to look at myself through your eyes, but it's so hard. I still see all my flaws, still see the cracks in the polished surface. Then again, you seem to like the cracks, the imperfections. I love your imperfections, just as much as I love your perfections. It makes you more tangible to me, and all the more human and perfect, because you understand. I know you understand.
We are two people who have gone through wholly different lives, but somehow come to similar conclusions. Two different fields of experience, two different perspectives, that somehow manage to parallel and blend. I sometimes wonder what thoughts are mine, and which are yours, and if you somehow plucked them from my mind. Or maybe it's the other way around.
It doesn't make it any easier to be away, and the first chance I get, I'm jumping in that car, and coming to see you. I need to see you again, confirm your reality. I need to remind myself that I haven't just dreamed you into being. I need to breathe you in, taste your mouth, and look into your eyes until I drown, just to remind myself.
Sigh. Why is that these words always seem so clumsy, and never enough? Why can I only sum it up in three words? Why is that, even though I say them as often as I can, they still frighten me a bit? I can't even begin to fathom it, but I know that it's still getting easier. No matter how much it terrifies me, daunts me, confuses me, it still comforts me, gives me joy, and bring me perfect clarity. I love you.
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