I missed the taste of you.
And the way your lips pressed to mine so lovingly and filled to the brim with affection.

I missed the way you watched my movements.
As if I was a rare animal in the wild, which both fascinated and inspired you.

I missed the way your hands felt.
And the way they curled into mine, fitting as if they were destined to be there.

I missed the way you made me laugh.
The most honest smiles I have ever made were in your presence.

And I knew we'd make it.

My perfect constellation.
My greatest adventure.

My love.

And even in the midst of those who say "NO" and "NEVER", we find ourselves surrounded by love and determination. A little home built for our hearts. And a triumph like no other.

(i. r)

Every poem I write is of you.

I write of your chiseled jaw and cheeks.

I write of your collarbones, from whose depth I could drink wine.

I write of the bed of stars you laid me down upon.

I write of your golden skin under the soft white sunlight.

I write of your eyes which remind me of the moon.

I write of your spine which resembles the solar system.

I write of my love and of my man, whose entire soul resembles the composition of the universe.

And I can only hope I am a galaxy within it..

(i. r)

I do not like this phase of a heart break.

When you purposely avoid love songs,
Or sometimes you play them just to make yourself feel like your hearts still pounding.

When the person you loved and hid from every waking soul is brought into a conversation.
Or when he isn't.

When you see other lovers who have made it years without the cruel hand of fate ripping their love from them.
Or when you see they haven't.

When you notice him writing you smaller, casual messages when they use to be breathtaking and beautiful.
Or when he doesn't write at all.

When I ask you if I am pushing you away and you say no.

"Alright, happy birthday! Text me later tonight?"

"Will do"

When every hidden goodbye ends with those two words. And my broken, belittled heart.

(i. r.)

8:12am

You slid your leg between my thighs.

Were you kidding? Yes.

Did I want you?
                  




                                         ­              Undoubtedly.

(i. r)

I wonder what your eyes saw,
When they were glassed over with tears,
Bloodshot and pain filled,
Staring at me with hope and loss.

The eyes that once were lit by starlight in my dark bedroom, illuminating a part of my soul once undiscovered.  Were now shattered and filled with sorrow.

You held me, and kissed me with your chapped and broken lips.

You embraced me, your hands dry and your fingertips blistered from the rusted strings you played all night.

I felt you in my arms.

I slid my nails along your spine, an action that always comforted you as a child.

I pet your hair and in each lock, I twirled my fingers in your deepest thoughts.

And I wanted to run away with you.

But as I kissed you for the very last time,

I felt you crack, just like the plaster on my ceiling.

I remember the last day very well.

How happy we were to be away from the rest of them.

How fun it was sitting in your car, and screaming out lyrics to songs we would one day want marked on our bodies.

How we happily giggled and allowed every ounce of insecurity to melt away into the air around us.

How the sunlight streamed in through my windows and covered your golden skin in a thin film of white.

How it felt to kiss your lips.

How it felt to hold you close.

How your body pressed to mine created one continuous aria of love.

How my last words were "text me when you're safe and sound"

How I didn't know I would be leaving my heart in your shirt pocket.

"Will do"


(i. r)