love is not the way you look at me like I'm the best damned thing you've ever set your eyes upon, it's not 'you're beautiful' a hundred times over; blushing, swooning, it is not any of these.
love is not the hands I have grown so fond of, the kisses we have gotten so good at, the feeling of reaching into the night and grabbing hold of- not sheets, not the cold desk or an even colder phone but- actually warmth; your warmth.
love is not your name on speed dial. It is not your face flashing through my brain when she rams my bedroom door off its hinges and I am crying. It is not your smile, that stupid, stupid grin.
love is the pin point of a moment when everything- every single noise, every single word I have said and thought that have danced right past my fingers- decendos into a roaring silence. It is the moment when the wind and the waves decide that they are done watching me rise and crash along with their every move. My head and heart at loggerheads and I'm just trying to hear above all that noise
what is everyone saying
why can't I hear anything (that's all I've ever wanted, to hear; something anything at all)
and then clarity.
when it happens it stretches itself across eternity. it holds on; it holds true.
I have yet to taste what it is like; and since I have not,
I have not love.
/
words words words saving me since the beginning
x
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