If I wrote you in words I would attempt to syntactify what we did in those sacred moments when we stole together and how it felt to be encased in your arms.  I would remember the day on Ray when you walked through my door in baseball cap that I jarred when I ran to kiss you.  My words would tremble as I did with our first kiss.  I lived myself into existence through your touch.  We, a Beautiful Mess of a beginning shared electrifying sparks as you held my hand while driving with presumed innocence in my car.  You are the smell of Eternity which you gifted me and still she rests on my windowsill bringing me mostly happy but sometimes sad.  My words lie on your back because no other place or position brought me close enough to you.  Puffs of white everywhere engulfed us in moments, hours, days until we had not time remaining and through a door one of us walked while the other watched through tearful eyes.  Reel not real.  Not a lie.  Full of truths – a combination of yours and mine that tangled and weaved until they found a rhythm that could support the push and pull of us. I love you in this way and that way neither fighting to contend; the way love works best.  The words would be beautiful if I drew them into a picture. Robin’s egg blue eye into my soul.

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