I watched a movie once that related Love to oxygen.
It was at that instance I realized something.
I’ve spent too many years inhaling and exhaling such a fragile and pure concept.
And for once I want to suffocate at the thought of a healthy heart.

I wanted to discontinue the second notion of my lungs.
Because breathing out never sounded so strenuous.

When I saw you, I couldn’t help but gather the atmosphere around me and hold it in.
My better half held it’s hand over my mouth.
But for once I didn’t panic.
The thought of your presence crept in and eased my pain.

At times I feel like I have reoccurring moments.
Like certain circumstances have been lined up for me and you’re my humidifier, aiding my existence.

A kiss.
My lips gather upon yours.
And it is at that time, I can resupply my body with life.
It is at that time, I always understand why he referenced oxygen when speaking about Love.

So when I grow older, I don’t want a breathing tube shoved down my throat.
I just want you there, holding my hand.

Solution.

It’s you.
It’s always been you.
100 years ago.
100 years from now.
It’s you.
It’s always been you.
And it will always be you.

Wrap me up.
Cover me in your tendencies.
Keep my body warm when the cold prevails.

Give me your hand.
I’ll guide you.

Create footsteps next to me.
Let me learn your breaths.
Take from me a mirror image.

Give me your hand.
I’ll follow you.

I’ll always miss you when you’re five feet away.
Or your smile when your face is turned.
And I’ll always miss the soothing energy from your fingertips when you’re gone.

I don’t wish to seek a shelter.
I do not hope to find a settlement.
And I will not search for riches.

Give me your hand.
I’ll hold it to mine.

Because you are the home, I’ve been aching to find.
And I’m tired of making up for lost time.

Show me your welcome mat, and I’ll come right in.
I promise I’ll wipe my feet.
I’ll leave my demons behind.

**I promise.

The tyrant oppressor.
The guided wanderer.
The reluctant adviser.

The seed, the water, the bloom.

Treat your internal life like the tallest sunflower you could grow.
Ease your worries.
Transmit them into a fruition that’s constantly being treated with the most potent fertilizer.

The petals fall, the soil becomes dry, and that plant deceases.

Stray from the singular project and widen your perspective.
You possess a garden so full of life that oxygen feels the need to feed off you.
Utilize your lesson; that being you are wonderful as a whole.

Every fault, every cracked pore on your skin, every doubt.

The underlying truth.
The effective selfishness.
The beauty, of you.

I believe we have met before.
Somewhere in a past life.

I believe we have been searching for each other for decades now.
Somehow we found our way again.

I believe we were meant to begin another story in this life time.
One written better than the last.

I believe you were the ink to my pen.
A novel I never got to complete.

I believe in souls.
And you being my mate.

So take my hand.
I’ll carry you home.