#psych0metry

I had to say that first because it’s been on the tip of my tongue for so long I was starting to get used to the taste.

 Tonight I told you that if I could write poetry, I’d write it for you, but I write poetry for you in my thoughts all the time because I just can’t help myself. Everything you do is a poem just waiting to be put into words, honestly, and I do it over and over again until I make myself sick with how much I never want to be away from you. 

I never want to miss a single verse.

Wow, I’m an idiot.

I’ll never show this to you. I’ll never tell you explicitly how my heart beats faster when you’re around and takes up residence in my throat instead of my chest. I’ll never tell you how much my fingers long to stay entwined with yours or how much better I breathe when I’m sharing your air.

I never believed in soulmates or fate or love at first sight or love at all actually until you walked into my life and gouged a gaping hole in my perception of the world—but now I know that I’d never be the same without you.

If you left, you’d take a piece of me with you—a big piece—and that pisses me off because it means I’m scared of you. You could hurt me. You could hurt me so much worse than anyone ever has and my brain is telling me to run far away but my heart is telling me to trust you and I want to listen.

The point of all this is—

The point is that I ache when you’re around me and I ache even more when you’re not here and I think that’s called love and I’ve fallen so far down into it that I’ll never be able to dig myself out and all I want is your hand in mine and your voice telling me that everything will be okay.

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