Handle me gently.
Mull it over in your mind
Until you find the words that match your intentions.
Say them quietly
So only I can hear.
Don't speak harshly.
Don't leave me hanging.
Don't blend into the background.
A word spoken is a word meant
So say what you mean
Because I meant what I said
And I'll say it again.
I love you times one million.
All my bad decisions were worth it
If my one right decision was you.

What is beauty?
An ideal stuffed down our throats,
That makes us scrutinise reflections
To trace every single flaw and imperfection in our very being?
I've long since stopped searching for beauty in the mirror,
It was a loosing battle, no mater what empty compliments were spat my way.
Instead I've come to think of beauty as freedom,
As liberation from the shackled thoughts of society,
And it's come to mean so much.... more.
Beauty isn't in the angular curves of malnourished models,
The photoshopped perfection of tabloid queens.
No.
Beauty is in muted sunsets,
Colours thrown up as homage to a whispered day,
Cradles by clouds and wisps of white.
Beauty is in the moments that make you itch for a pen,
A brush, a lens: anything to preserve the moment
In perfect clarity so that you can feel again the breath thieving awe.  
Beauty is in woven fingers and passionate touches,
Love shouted through the twitch of a mouth and the softening of eyes.
Beauty is caught in the second you stop, look up
And dig your nails into a world that spins too quickly,
Seizing every day that flies your way.

I miss the simplicity of a shared blanket, the intimacy of a shared pillow.
Moments of pure connection passed in dreams punctuated by waking, seeing you there and once again holding you close, but never close enough.
I miss your touch, the sound of your voice, the sight of your words.
I miss so many things about you its hard to explain that you're still here.
Not metaphorically but actually.
Is this how it ends?
Is this how we know its not going to work anymore?
Two people inches apart but a thousand miles away from each other?
I used to be able to tell the very moment you fell asleep, we were that in tune with one another.
Now I don't even know what time you wake up.
Before, before every change in your breathing would be enough to wake me. Not wake me to the point of consciousness but enough that I would be aware if it stayed changed or went back to normal.
Normal.
That's something that seems a long way off now.
I don't know if we'll ever see normal again and sometimes, just sometimes I'm not even sure I want to.
But then other times I feel like I would give anything to go back to normal, back to normal with you.
Normal.
Maybe for me, this is normal?
Who the **** knows anymore?
I'm just so tired.