I still sit there, on the couch furthest from the television in the lounge.
From there I can get a glimpse out of the curtained, front window.
I used to sit there when I was waiting for you to come see me in excitement.
Now I still sit here waiting for you to come see me in an utter ball of depression, as I know it won't happen.
But I will still sit here and listen to each car go past and compare it to how yours sounded and hope with every part of me that you come back.

And just like that, every bit of happiness was ripped away from me, simply by you leaving.

Like eyes knew your mind was already at home within that lonely-love of yours.
Feeling distant frustrates the lost. The deep look for that girl that has a beautiful soul inside.
17 longer feeling years, tainted, waiting, deserves a cold man to be close to. One with a true heart.
Wishing on hopeless petals as an excuse to avoid the galaxies-worth of thought you contained in that bitter brain of yours.
Cold cheeks cried out for softly captivating lips.
Twistedly committed to searching through constellations, inviting those whose hearts were like a vortex.
To the point of disorientation, when all the constellations start to blur, creating disastrous patterns.
Fear, flawed lungs, struggling to breathe.
Cruel whispers to **** your hope of ever finding love.
Like looking past the light and into a mirror, you see him and suddenly you're not so broken anymore.
You awaken.

Somebody once told me that to love would be the strongest feeling of
All. Yet I discovered a new feeling the other day, I felt
Vacant. Surely most have felt this at some point in their lives. My mind was
Empty. I sat there for a while contemplating what that meant, to be vacant.
Over and over again, but could not yet come to a conclusion.
Ultimately, I was confused. I turned to my mother for answers but
Right at that moment, as I turned, I realised that it isn't just an emotion.
Something physically leaves your body for your mind to become this.
Oddly enough we are frozen almost, even for the shortest amount of time,
Under a spell perhaps? No, not a spell, but a curse. And just
Like that I understood, for us to be entirely conscious, we need someone to
**save our soul.

I like the way freshly cut grass on a warm Saturday afternoon smells, whilst I sit in the sun and sip on coffee, breathing in the fresh air.
It is almost like being reborn and getting to experience your senses for the first time again.
I like the look of the smoke that is given off by lit incense as it burns down.
The beautiful ripple effect, then flowing off freely into the room, relaxes me.  
When I close my eyes and breathe it in, it reminds me of sitting in front of a fire place, with my gaze set on the flames;
But, more than anything in this world, I like the feel of his presence.
He is nostalgic.
Bringing me thoughts of comfort.
He is both the smell of freshly cut grass on a Saturday afternoon and the sight of rippling smoke emitted by incense.
He is my nostalgia.

I can not seem to describe it the way I would like but, it is as if, sometimes, I am able to focus on everything I touch.
Getting into this sort of zone, I guess you could call it, where it is like my senses of touch and feel are heightened.
Like when I scrunch up a piece of paper, I can feel every crease and crinkle.
So you can not imagine what it feels like when I get to touch your skin.
I focus in and feel every line, every wrinkle, every vein, every hair follicle, every mark.
God you are the most interesting person to trace.
You make me feel at home when you hold me and our bodies meet, like two galaxies colliding.
You feel like a warm bed on a cool night.
A cup of coffee made just right on a Sunday morning.
I can not wait to caress my fingers upon you once again.