Too often, our hearts are stolen, snatched, hands forced beneath our rib cages and bones shattered as they leave our chests.

But not her

She was different entirely.

I loved being in love with her
Often in the smallest, softest moments
Walking with her in the park, holding her hand at the cinema, sliding the straighteners through her hair, sleepily pressing my lips against hers at four in the morning, hearing her laughter echo across the room

It would hit me
As if the sun had let go of the earth

Just how lucky I was
To have the entire world
At my fingertips

*I would love her relentlessly.