I'm frightened by just how much I love you. And I do mean love. Not that silly thing we throw around like casual greetings-- "oh, I just love your dress, your shoes, your earings"-- no, none of that, unless these things were worshipped by whoever uttered the phrase. I mean just that, I worship you, I adore every second I spend with you and if I could commit to memory every detail of your soul and flesh and internal beauties I'd never be alone again. But, I am only so gifted, and I lose sight of you upon every drifting thought. That does not mean you are not important to me, that you are, oh so terribly, but I simply know I cannot bear to hold you in my mind all the time. Otherwise I'd never get things done. This does, however, work as a wonderful motivator; wanting to send my time imaginning you because we are so far apart. I try my best so I can get back to that, so that I can get back to you when you are around. So, back to the fact that I love you. I love you like one should their own thoughts, something so integral in defining who you are that it can be said to compose your very essence. I know it's like a cliche, but I really find myself at a loss for words when describing those precious moments of intimate solitude to even us. Giving shape, form, word and solid meaning to something so raw, intimate, warm, caring and so much deeper than those words could ever imply is...wrong. But you know me, always one to try and say what it is I'm thinking, whether or not it needs to be said. And I also know you, and I take great pride in knowing my lover so well that I am her best friend, her first choice in opening up to someone. It makes me feel so important; you make me feel that way too. And that's important, especially between two people with limited self-esteems. To be made so important and integral and nurturing to someone elses life, and at the same time making them equally important to you-- not to lick one anothers wounds, but to help us through, help each of us move on, together. I like that, I really do. Hell, maybe the reason why we shouldn't give this shape is because it can be viewed in such a skewed manner, always picked apart and basterdized, misinterpreted, twisted, distorted, and in the end defiled beyond repair. But, there are also times when we can give these moments shape and form, liberty. When we lay in bed, with you usually laying on top of me, looking right into each others eyes, without so much as a ****** hint or verbal command our fingers slide across our hands, down one anothers palms, into the spaces between each finger and interlock, and we stare, and we smile, and we giggle at how very alike we are, you and I. In love