You ever look at someone and get that feeling in your chest?
That light butterfly flutter
That soft, rain drop pitter patter of your heart
You’re walking in Hermes’ winged shoes
Apollo’s carrying you right past the sun and over the moon in his chariot
Her name tastes more sweet on your lips than the wine from Dionysus’ glass
Your head’s in the clouds
You’re so high up that those thunder storms are just background noise
Because nothing sounds sweeter than her voice.
You can only imagine the velvet of her lips.
The feeling of resolution as her fingers lace with yours.
Your missing puzzle piece finally finds its match.
Nothing sounds as beautiful as a compliment from her lips.
No words can sum her up because she is breathtaking.
The demons that used to flow from your tongue are replaced with soft, sweet notes long forgotten.
Before you know it you’ve fallen fast,
For a woman you can’t have,
and you know it can never last.
Distance isn’t a friend of mine.
But someone once told me that love is not measured by the lengths we take to be together
But the lengths we take to stay together.
It’s the battles we face as a pair.
The ‘I love yous’ at the end of the night when you’re at the end of your rope.
It’s the little uptick on the corner of her lips because you know she’s fighting a smile.
It’s the smirk that shows first in her eyes before it appears on her mouth.
It’s the adoration that flows through your veins and twinkles in your eyes.
It’s the bite of your lower lip to fight a grin.
Yet you give in after that little pout
Because you’d do anything to see her smile.
Whatever you’ve felt before can’t compare to this
You think you knew her long before you said a word.
You love every part of her, the good, the bad.
You love the crazy she’s ashamed of,
The curves she shies from.
She argues that she’s not perfect,
You nod your agreement.
No one is,
but she’s perfect to you.
And that’s all that’s ever mattered.
The heart wants what the heart wants and you love the forbidden fruit that is her love.
You long to hold her hand, to feel the smoothing of her thumb over your knuckles.
To memorize the lines in her palm
To feel the sting of her nails in the back of your hand, the dampness of her tears against your neck as she gets through an episode beside you instead of through a phone.
You want to understand the way no one else does
Because you know she’s not crazy.
She’s human, a tragically beautiful disease.
You long to be the shoulder she cries on.
You long to be there in anyway you can.
You'll have her in whatever way you can get.
Her smile reward enough for the pangs of the distance between you.
You'll love her until your dying day.
And that
Is all that really matters.