Too Overdramatic & Too Introspective

And stay with me if I ask you to leave. وابق معي إذا أنا سألتك الرحيل

I have seen him at his best, and his worst… I cannot decide which I love more, his happiness, or raw emotion. But I love him, all of him. Every single side and bit. I love the sky above his head, the floor he walks on. I love the words he spills over morning coffee, the whispers he mumbles in sleep. I love the tears he blinks away, the red in his cheeks. There is not a part of him I can’t accept, there is not a part of him I can’t love.

I am the kind of person who would miss a train or a plane to meet you for coffee. I’d take a taxi across town to see you for ten minutes. I’d wait outside all night if I thought you would open the door in the morning. If you call me and say ‘Will you…’ my answer is ‘Yes’, before your sentence is out. I spin worlds where we could be together.

brown person: *has green eyes*

You were always more and I never deserved you, but I’ll keep trying.

“Do you even know how strong God has made you? How strong and good He has made you?”

I have infinite tenderness for you. I always will. My whole life.

A squeeze of the hand—enormous documentation—a tiny gesture within the palm, a knee which doesn’t move away, an arm extended, as if quite naturally, along the back of a sofa and against which the other’s head gradually comes to rest—this is the paradisiac realm of subtle and clandestine signs: a kind of festival not of the senses but of meaning.

I knew when I said I love you that I was inventing a new alphabet for a city where no one could read that I was saying my poems in an empty theater and pouring my wine for those who could not taste it.

Just in case you ever foolishly forget, I’m never not thinking of you.