I am in love.

I am in love with the image of what i have of you. I am in love with how much i have known of you. I am in love with the bits and pieces that i have gathered of you.

I am in love.

I am in love with your shy, secretive ways. I am in love with the brilliant scintillation of your eyes that could put the stars to shame. I’m in love with that sweet curve that spreads on your face when you think of something funny. I am in love with your nervousness and your refusal to feel vulnerable.

I am in love.

I am in love with your mere existence. I’m in love with the fact that you are in your hometown and that you might be watching a crane fly by a blue backdrop of the evening sky. I am in love that you are breathing somewhere, that your heart is beating healthily somewhere.

I am in love.

I am in love, because i believe i am. Though i know not who you deeply are, but I am in love with the parts of you that i know. I could acquire your taste as an acquired taste and could share your dreams. I could stand chattering or silent by your side. I am in love with your fire and your ice.

I am in love.

I am in love because i think i’m learning to give. I am in love because i think i am capable of a selflessness i thought i had lost. I am in love because i feel strangely content even while i do not have you. I am in love that you are so far away. I am in love because i feel you are yet nearby.

I am in love.

I am in love that i write a love lore after all these years. I am in love that it comes so easily to me – as easily as you come to memory. I am in love that you never leave. I am in love that this isn’t ending yet.

I am in love.

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