It's lucky I'm a poet;
if I wasn't a crafter of words,
it would be nearly
impossible
to find the words to describe
The swelling of my heart
whenever I think of you
(It's like my chest is about to burst)
The tingle in my stomach
when I know you're near
(It's so odd I really can't describe it,
except to say that it's impatient)
The surge of love and happiness,
warmth and comfort,
that fills me completely
when I melt into your arms
(Oh, it's so perfectly warm)
Oh, how do I describe my love?
It's another world,
attached to my older, darker one,
and only good things are allowed
to enter the sphere.
It's a swelling, like a tidal wave
crashing over me, but
I am not afraid.
It's home.
It's...home.
It's safe and it's warm, and...
It's home, being in your arms.
There is no place I'd rather be.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 8:27 AM UTC
It's lucky I'm a poet;
if I wasn't a crafter of words,
it would be nearly
impossible
to find the words to describe
The swelling of my heart
whenever I think of you
(It's like my chest is about to burst)
The tingle in my stomach
when I know you're near
(It's so odd I really can't describe it,
except to say that it's impatient)
The surge of love and happiness,
warmth and comfort,
that fills me completely
when I melt into your arms
(Oh, it's so perfectly warm)
Oh, how do I describe my love?
It's another world,
attached to my older, darker one,
and only good things are allowed
to enter the sphere.
It's a swelling, like a tidal wave
crashing over me, but
I am not afraid.
It's home.
It's...home.
It's safe and it's warm, and...
It's home, being in your arms.
There is no place I'd rather be.
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