I want to say that I am tired of being treated as a magazine that people will only read until they lose fascination.
I want to say that the way he says my name makes me care about the person behind the letters.
I want to say that his name almost makes me believe that soulmates do exist.
I want to say that our first kiss felt like August, and I have been living in summer ever since.
I want to say that my temper is a quick fuse that is always lit.
I want to say that when lone and love meet, it never works out, but what if it did?
I don’t know why my body becomes an earthquake of trembling bones when entangled with yours, but I do know that your melancholy reminders of gratitude steady the haze.
I don’t know why I can’t form an explanation of what your existence has done for mine, but I do know that every moment our minds intertwine, magic ensues.
I don’t know if anyone is hand placed into my ecosystem at the right time for a precise reason, but I do know that every day with you is like an advent calendar.
I am not saying you are a gift.
I am not saying you are clad in silken bow.
I am saying that your essence holds a formula to make every minute unpredictable.
I don’t know as much as I think, but I do think much too often.
I think I still haven’t found the correct balance between reckless and vigilance.
I think people ruin the magic of a sunrise by talking about the magic of a sunrise.
I think posture is as hard to maintain as composure.
I think you are not the answer to my questions of why things happen the way they do, but the explanation of how some individuals are meant to find each other when they do.