Self-proclaimed Writer

Gone are the days of sipping nectars from a flower.

Sometimes, poetry does not make sense.

I may be able to write a letter with thousand words and with equivalent number of papers; flying 7,154 miles conquering the unstable condition, but still, those will never be enough to describe what is happening between the both of us.

In that exact moment, at 3:46 in the morning, I know I am madly in love with you; for  I am willing to sacrifice sleep and comfort just so I can talk to you a little bit more.

Those lovely times where I close my eyes and I could see the vivid image of us kissing. How it feels like to have his mouth against mine, the taste of him; and how our tongues dance in a rhythm only the two of us could comprehend to.

I always try to set aside a time every night, usually 30 minutes before I call him to wake up (LDR feels), to write down all my intentions, the things I've accomplished for the day, and what I set out to do tomorrow.

Me: I don’t know what I am going to do without you.