My heart has never been one piece;

I’ve left bits in places and people

for safekeeping or declaration.

So you didn’t break it.

You never even had the chance. 

But don’t think for once second —

it didn’t hurt when you tore 
a piece too big for yourself 
and left my ****** heart half out my chest

I would start with your hands.
Mine would dance with yours;
our fingers waltzing together.

Then they would become curious,
I know so.
My hands would glide up your arm
leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.

I don't know where your hands have gone,
but mine have reached the top of your shoulder.
My fingers can't resist
tracing your collar bone.

Your hands find mine.
I think they got lost
in the escalation of my own.
But they're together now.

Taking a hint from yours,
my hands reach to your chin --
only breaking contact
for a second.

My fingers have tilted your chin,
so our eyes can do a similar dance
to the one our hands have completed.

Hands are the utilitarian laborers
of the body,
but eyes guard the gates
to the soul.

My eyes search your own.
They are hesitant, but
my hands are always reliable.

They pull you into me
and at the last second
before our eyes close,
and our lips meet,
my eyes find what they knew was there.

I don't know what I did to make you so bitter, but it must have been worse than caring for you.

It must have been worse than putting you before anyone else,

It must have been worse than all those kind words I shared with you.

It must have been worse than kissing away your tears,
      When you thought that dark feeling inside you would never go away.

It must have been worse than trying to make you smile,  

Or telling you that your smile makes me smile.

It had to have been worse than caressing your face in the morning because
                 I loved you.

It must have been worse than all the times I was the big spoon.

It must have really been when your happiness was more important to me than my own.

How much different would things be
if you read my words
knowing they're about you?

Please,
put your hand in mine
and trust that I'll never let go.
Pull your hand away
and mine will remain,
palm upward and open.
When you return,
I'll hold just as tight.
If not,
tighter.

Falling asleep has never been easy for me.
I overthink.
I toss
And I turn.

Most nights,
I wake up in a panic
at 2 a.m.
Sweating.

But not last night.

I fell asleep in your arms.
Nothing to worry about.
I was safe
And secure.

Last night,
I slept until the sun
was in the middle of the sky.
And so did you.

I have dozens of notebooks,  
Filled with thousands of words,
All about one person.