”His breath got taken away while I couldn’t breathe at all and he sank into me with every contact of skin to skin. Even if just a finger first start to my shoulder, it’s not just that he himself was drawn in, but he couldn’t not melt into me. So much that he had to let my body somehow become a part of his. Our hair was two different completely different, but tangled together, the strands simply appeared to be made from the same beautiful being. My heart just beat out of my fucking chest and he would seemingly try to touch his to mine, like they did not synchronize or even communicate only by sound. The two just met as old friends who’d become strangers, and spoke at the same time but still understood one another though our minds had just been introduced.” ~ Megan Chruszczyk
I could hold as many grudges as I want with incredibly good reason, but then how in the world would I have any room to hold on to the wonderful things?
The look in your eyes says marvelous things, but then your actions speak some sort of foreign language
And your aura… it is like shaky hands
Just let me hold them tightly so I can reassure you that time is of the essence, yes, but so is taking life moment by every miniscule to grand moment
I am miss black lung and buzzing head
Miss enigmatic open book and big broken heart
Miss captivating eyes and busted sense of self
I may be nearly blind, but I see clearly in hindsight
And I don’t need 20/20 vision to see right into your soul
Don’t even waste your time on underestimating the flames of a quiet fire, because, one day, that spark from my touch will light up your life
I have scorched earth in my luminescent blue and green eyes but I have a soft spot for boys with a warm gaze who taste like cigarettes and don’t ask me to let them love me
You missed out on the making of an amazing woman
A deep thinker and relentless fighter
A tenacious lover and a damn good writer
You missed out on every tear, every laugh, every scream, and every “I love you” that made her who she is
And who she’s going to be
You missed out on every word of advice that she gave to everyone that she cared about that could’ve done you some good
You’re missing out on witnessing the circus show that is her mind that’ll put you in awe
You’re not getting to see the unique smile that’s only brought out when she’s looking love right in the eye
And missing out on the terrifying look of fear that she gets when she thinks that she’s slipping back into her old self, even though the people who truly know her know that she’s being silly because that is just not possible
And I don’t think you’d be one of those people in disbelief
You don’t get to witness her rants or motivational speeches or morning groggy discussions or late night epiphanies
You didn’t get to read the poetry that makes her feel more like a human being
Or witness the things that she creates that seem mediocre to her but are more beautiful than she’ll ever realize
You walk the same earth and know her name and where she lives and see her sometimes but you have no idea who she is
You missed out on me.
Is love when you can’t stand to be away from someone for an hour,
or when you miss them as soon as you turn your head away?
Is it when you can’t get enough of them,
when no matter what you do, how much of your bodies are touching,
you can’t help but want to be even closer?
Is it when you look into their eyes and see the world you want to live in
the place you want to reside for the rest of your life?
Or is it when the feeling of their chest gently move up and down and their heart beating so quietly
seem as the sweetest things on this earth?
Is it feeling ever so grateful for every second that you get to spend with them,
even if it is only for one second?
Is love allowing yourself to be torn apart and stitched back together by the one who did the tearing?
Is it all of these things compiled together?
Or is love just madness?
Love seems to be such a beautiful craved madness.
It is a brave thing to involve one’s self with an individual who, while not necessarily knowing their place in the world, knows that they have a place in the world. Terrifyingly beautiful. If the eyes are a mirror then I would be more than honored for them to be able to see such brilliance as they look in my eyes while I’m looking at them. Strange, how one person can be more than enough but not too much. They are the mystery that I wouldn’t mind trying to solve for the rest of my life only to find that they are never ending. It is fascinating to see someone not need a soul nor want one to try to help guide them through their own path. All that I can hope is that mine would cross with theirs and we are both there to witness it. And that I be blessed enough to have the option to merge.