(How do I get out of my mind)

Each and every text hit me like
Little sparks of fire,
Each of them igniting
And enveloping me
In this new feeling,
Spreading warmth across my body
Like warm butter,
Seeping in and soaking.
Popcorn popping in my stomach,
Bouncing up and down,
Warm and addicting.

I smiled.

So this is what it feels like to be loved.

I used to admire Van Gogh for how lovely he could make simple sunflowers look,
But then I saw you,
and I wonder how jealous Van Gogh would be of your beauty.

Can we ever truly understand
And respect and accept the
Real quality of life?
Must we really have to know?
Even though we try to hard to understand
Never do we truly succeed

Rarely do we find pure quality
Even though we know we can
Even when we try harder than we should
Down to the bottoms of our hearts