With my pen firmly pressed
against the blank sheet of paper,
I bleed out my words.
I paint the sheet with
honest tears,
optimistic love,
and unquestionable affection.
Eventually this letter,
filled with words 3 years deep,
will reach you.
And I will look at you, and,
with my embarrassing bravery,
and shakey hands,
I will place the letter in your hands,
and take a deep,
deep,
breath.

I long to be the taste in your mouth
as you drink your morning coffee.
I want to be in the lyrics of your favorite song.
When you want to be alone,
I want to be your getaway.
And when you're lying on your back at 2 am,
I want to be the secrets that
fill your walls.

No combination
of those 26 letters
can accurately describe how I feel when I look at you.
This feeling is
the tingling in my knees,
the warmth in my cheeks,
the sweat on my palms,
and the pounding in my chest.
Trying to describe my feelings towards your beauty
is like saying the ocean is blue.
I see so much when I look out onto those waters
and I see so much when I look at you.

Do I love you
or the idea of you?
Do I need you
or am I just lonely?

From the time I was a little girl,
they warned me about
drugs and addiction,
but they forgot to warn me about one specific drug.
The drug that courses through my veins,
***** with my mentality,
seizes my life,
and leaves me feeling momentarily
fulfilled,
and undeniably
empty.
The drug that is your smile,
your touch,
you as a whole,
as a human being that is transformed into this chemical
that I inject into my bloodstream.
They should have warned me about that drug.
That addiction.

There are some loves
that are so powerful and
they support each other
by being apart.
Like the sun and the moon,
they will never collide
because they are too busy
letting the other one shine.

Within my heart
you planted a garden.
Each compliment left a daisy.
Each kiss, a rose.
But then you forgot
to water the garden.
You left
and left it all to die.