stay.

Draft. It's scary, how feelings develop. The further I fall, the more I fear of losing or hurting her. It's what beauty often is; a mix of joy, pain, sadness, awe, and fleeting serenity.

I think about you when sleep meets morning;

when my senses slip out of the night

and into bed sheets and rousing muscles.

I stretch outwardly,

searching for a thought of you

to embrace

between myself and the comfort of my pillow.

 

I think of you

when colors parade the afternoon

or when laughter finds a song to sing

I think of you when the moon drains the morning

And my body gives way to sleep's gravity

  

when I think of you 

The outline of your features,

The sound of your voice,

The buzz of your warmth;

when I define beauty,

I can only think

of you.

And sometimes, 

I feel

 I (am) lost

Further and further 

into your curves and edges,

and the further I fall,

the more I fear the ground

how does someone with a fear of heights

fall so far so fast

so willingly.

Author's Note

draft