Everyone always wants a reason for everything:
Why we feel the things we do,
why the humiliating emotion, love, sets fire in our hearts at the strangest of times,
how to tell if a potential lover desires you in the same way you long for their hand in yours.

But I was never one with reasons to give.

Because how can I put into words my desperate attempt at preventing you from noticing my sweaty palms as I nonchalantly tried wiping them on the couch cushion.
Because if you did end up grabbing my hand I wouldn't want the sweat from my palms disturbing you even the slightest bit.

And how can I describe the way my thoughts buzzed like an angry bee inside my head. I was sure you could hear her throwing herself against the walls of my brain, trying to break in open for the desperate plea "kiss me, please!" to finally slip out.
As the bee grew louder my body remained a garden statue.

The truth is, I could never even begin to explain to anyone the pace my leg was shaking at. Because twenty miles per hour just doesn't seem unrealistic to me.
And staring wordlessly at your mouth at your mouth, desperately trying to give you the hint, well, the descriptive words for that just aren't in my vocabulary.

I'm afraid no one will ever know about how many times in a minute I wet my lips that day.
Or about how I watched your mouth move in the most calming way possible
and thought about how some people have dry lips with the skin all torn up and peeled,
but you never truly know that until you've touched them with your own,
Or how badly I wanted to find out about yours, because I knew even if your lips needed repairing I'd still want to kiss them just as bad-

Over and over and over and over and over again.

Unfortunately, even after watching you talk for almost five minutes straight, I couldn't repeat a word you said back to you even if you wanted me to.

What I can tell you is this:
The silence between us seconds before you spoke my now favorite words was a decade long,
and the eye contact we made as you asked to kiss me felt like someone had just set my hair on fire
because I swear my face had never been redder.

However, there are a thousand questions I would love to give reasons for,
but you'll never know most of the answers
Because instead of pausing to capture the moment with a camera or a pen and paper I simply leaned forward and met you half way.</p>

And let me tell you,
your lips were not torn up and peeled.

My little Arizona dreamer,
You're the thinker for the world.
Your magnificent light draws me nearer to you.
But your arms push me far.

My little brown eyed bug,
Every element breathes in you.
How lucky I am to know that.
You crawl through the grass with ease, examining everything around you.
Learning.

My little runaway,
Your problems are merely an illusion.
Your heart is bigger than you think it appears.
I know it most of all.

My little glimmering beauty,
I can only hope I can one day be big enough to be the holder of your thoughts: the listener.
You, my dear, are above all else.
To me.

My little praying mantis,
Someday you'll take note of your rarity. You're so calm, appearing everywhere without invitation.
My heart, my mind, my dreams.
But when you appear, I stop to watch you.
Every time.

How selfish am I to call you mine?

Drowning in a sea of despair,
I'm trying to keep my head above the water but it's no use.
Every word being spoken around me inflames my temper,
I am a lost cause.
Soon, I will abandon this roller coaster of emotions.
I will fade into a deep sleep,
I will pray to never awaken.
As I sleep, the stench of failure floods my bedroom, repelling everyone who tries to enter.
I am a lost cause.
Time is a thief who shakes me awake with black and blue hands.
As I struggle to regain consciousness, a decade has past.
Sadness is a captive animal and I,
I am a lost cause.