I’m always writing. You hate it sometimes, it robs us of more time we could use to sneak away into the abyss of our intertwined hearts. But lately, I love that you don’t mind anymore. I’m pretty sure you’d never read any of the stuff I write.
I could scream every word known to man but nothing can ever compete with the fact that ‘YOU’ frightens me. I need to understand why when I hold you, I become weak at the taste of what we could create together. My heart strains to taste the beauty that my ears are treated to whenever you whisper. My inner being is burned out at your altar of selflessness, I’m as sold out to you as a lamb ready for sacrifice. But you still see through it all and choose to hold onto me like I’m the anchor your mama told you to never let go of.
I remember not so long ago, someone I knew then, loved me like as if I had a bounty on my head that I didn’t know of. Trying to make me feel small any chance they got. But you, you smile at me with your beautiful and watery eyes every night, kiss away all my scars past.
Last night you, you held my hand and gaze. For a minute I thought you were really going to walk out on me. I shouldn’t have written about us and published the stories for the whole world to see (I thought you’d never know anyway). Then you surprised me, by reciting my letters one by one. It was so beautiful to watch you break down, laugh and shake from all the pleasure you got from watching my very stunned self.
If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.
Yours in love