A love of words, of reading and writing, our souls brimming constantly with poetry. A blanket of stars over both our heads, bringing you closer and closer to me. A Hologram for the King, Anime, movies, fun facts, and Navy-blue galaxy pillow sheets. Darkest green, and lullabies. Forever, Kindred, in your eyes.
Word-weaver, Soul-keeper. Heart-seeker, World-eater. You steal away the sorrow buried deeply in my chest, and it no longer hurts; the act of breathing, the act of being. You tug at my heartstrings and I wonder:
Black or Gold, all in the mold, as we uncover and rediscover who we are through the roadmaps of our memories. Sad or Happy, telling every story, secret tales unfolding openly; shared with you, shared with me, together walking by the rivers of history.
Don’t force yourself. You don’t have to. It’s a bother.
You’re the one I’ve been waiting my whole life for, I can wait an hour or two or even twenty more. Rest your head on my chest, I’ll take care of the rest. A thousand miles means nothing when you love me best.
I’ll hold both your hands through the storm, and sing lullabies to you to keep your heart warm. Make you breakfast in bed, with forehead kisses on your head. Not a single word of love will I dare leave unsaid.
To you do I give my most willing surrender. For I love you most, may you always remember.
Do you know what helps a writer write? Is it the way that he feels for you? That wistful yearning, ever prevalent, consuming the entirety of his days. Is it in the distance? Miles apart and yet so undeniably close. Is it in the moments spent with you? Infinity times Infinity. Or is it your love that he has, every waking moment, that helps a writer write?