I could write books about the way you make me feel. The warmth of your hand over mine—it brings my flighty mind into sharp focus, makes me truly feel my senses again instead of glossing them over with pretty dreams. This is just as well, though; the reality of you, the vision of you, everything, just you, is better than my musings anyway.
It's been awhile since I've watched Alice in Wonderland, but I'd be willing to bet that the Cheshire Cat has nothing on your smile, playing about your lips like they were a skate park. That and the little sparkle in your eyes—oh my God, you are such a five year old and yet I can't stop laughing. And that damn pouty face; your expressions seem to be the puppeteer of my heartstrings, and I don't think I could cut the cords if I wanted to. You're exasperating and immature and I love it.
I remember the day you gave me that necklace. You wanted it to be so romantic, a moonlit picnic on the beach—too bad you were so caught up in asking your dad for advice that you forgot to watch the weather report, doofus; I'm still pissed my sixty dollar coat I bought for my sister's wedding got wrecked—it may have itched like a flea on shrooms, but I spent my money on the thing and I wore it to try to impress you. I suppose it was worth it, though; the look on your face when you opened the Tiffany's box—I swear you looked so nervous I thought for a second you were proposing and had to choke back vomit. But no, you hadn't lost your fool mind (again), it was only a necklace. But it was really, really, pretty, and probably cost more than sixty dollars. Whatever, I'm still mad at you about the coat.
Still, most of the time, you're pretty cool. Seriously, there are days…only the thought of your arms around me, rubbing my back as I cry, gets me through it. Overall, I'm a pretty crappy person. I don't even know the excuses to make, I just am. But you see through all that to a decent person, someone who I wish I could see in the mirror without your conformation. Seeing myself through your eyes, my potential is clear; you make me better than who I am, you scare me and yet enthrall me with the intensity that's both terrifying and exhilarating. In the depth of your lips against mine, in that crevice between our mouths, is a bubble of hope and life that seems to breathe sunlight into my whole body.
It's a shame I haven't met you outside my imagination. Yet.