• You won’t ever read this.

    by  • November 30, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Love - Pure and Simple • 0 Comments

    I couldn’t think of a proper way to address this. Darling, dear, my love, you. Just you. It will always be you.

    I close my eyes and think about you, and I have said this so many times in my head my thoughts are running dry. I am repeating a lecture to myself, admitting…whatever it is I feel like I cannot say to you. So I’ll do it here. I know you won’t be reading this. You don’t even know what this website is, but it’s beautiful.

    I think about you all the time. When you’re not with me, when you are, when you’re close and when you’re what seems like hundreds of miles away, you are always on my mind. I close my eyes and breathe you in, your thick scent, cigarettes and something I can’t quite place. I want to carry it with me always, even if just to remind me that you were here, you’re here, with me.

    I think about how when I kiss you I close my eyes and count stars while you leave your eyes open and count the seconds until I move my lips from yours, notice my eyelashes flutter when you get close, my blush, my small smile, the way I hold you close, run my fingers through your hair, down your cheek until I can tilt your chin up to kiss me again. I will never stop wanting your kisses.

    I think about the moments we’ve had. None in particular, just moments that remind me of the good times, and sometimes, inevitability the bad. I think of you and me, and me, and then you, and all the minutes we will have to come; eons and eons of minutes with you, my dear.

    I want to scream sometimes though, from anger, or pleasure, or madness or excitement, or anything. I am so scared, not of you. You, my love, are not scary at all. I’m scared of losing you, scared of being vulnerable. You know almost everything about me, except those few dark secrets no one knows. I cannot speak them, even now. I’m scared that one day you might wake up and realize I am not beautiful, and that I am not smart, like you. Without you I’m a little plain, and no one likes plain things.

    You complete me. But sometimes, I feel like you don’t care as much as me, like sometimes I try so hard and you don’t notice. Don’t compliment me, don’t look at me as if I’m the only person in the room. How can I feel so much for you and never know for sure if you too, think I am wonderful. You say you always say whats on your mind, but you don’t. You almost never do when it comes to me. I am left unknowing, so long, for things I will never know.

    And, you, my love, always know.

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