A bit of a shout. (looksofine) wrote,
A bit of a shout.

Here's to the night we felt alive:

Tints of highlighted night adorn the air, and I can feel your feet tuck up under you because they were chilly. Mine are too, but I'm not moving because I would hate to disrupt our sacred purity. You know, you really should see your face at night as you sleep; It gets a careless sugarhoney smile to it, and your eyes relax from their snowblue state of being awake. I was ever so tempted to lean over to your ear and ask, "Did you assign the night to become to believably intense for me?" but of course I just continued thinking these thoughts to myself so I could continue to watch you in your world of innocence.

It helped me discover a great deal about progression, not only in annual increments, but in daily scales. What started as a painstakingly bittersweet beginning is now our own storybook faerytale. We can tell the world, and scream that such beauty can exist within a single set of moments. Look at our reality! No one helped to dictate its perfection but our own lovely persistence. [Which, might I add, has paid off in a most wonderful way.]

My notion of pretty adornment came when I enveloped you, took you in, and held you there in my arms. Calm. Thunder in the vague distance, rain pouring onto the window. We were ornaments to eachother, enhancing personal charisma with the presence we had to offer one another. The symbiosis of our locked eyes forced something extraordinary to happen; Our soul's unity was happening, streaming all around us in full blown colour. Screw delicacy; This was a newfound and pertinent energy.

Looking back, there's not one moment I regret, besides the obvious ones where I wasn't reminding you of my profound adoration. Vice versa. You've entered me in every aspect and now I ask:

So this is love?
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