When I look at you,
I don't see beautiful legs,
or a gorgeous face,
I don't see perfect *******
or eyes worth drowning in.
When I look at you,
I see through the material
captivating as it is,
and into a mystery
beckoning to the immaterial.
When I speak with you,
the rest of the world doesn't stop spinning,
but it slows down,
and the doubts and history,
fall away into the nothing
from whence they came.
When you touched me,
there was no ecstasy,
nor a beautiful pain;
just a simple warmth
which I never thought
I'd be able to feel again.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
When I look at you,
I don't see beautiful legs,
or a gorgeous face,
I don't see perfect *******
or eyes worth drowning in.
When I look at you,
I see through the material
captivating as it is,
and into a mystery
beckoning to the immaterial.
When I speak with you,
the rest of the world doesn't stop spinning,
but it slows down,
and the doubts and history,
fall away into the nothing
from whence they came.
When you touched me,
there was no ecstasy,
nor a beautiful pain;
just a simple warmth
which I never thought
I'd be able to feel again.
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