When you breathe into me I feel it the way I feel homemade apple cider slide down my throat for the first time each fall, thick and rich, sweet and hot—from my lips all the way down to my toes.

I feel your hands slide up and down my arms, rubbing them, pulsing your fingers over my skin just to make sure I’m still real.

I am real and I am here.

There’s a quiet in the morning that is just ours when I tilt my head back to look at you, I feel your breath catch at the same moment as mine. It’s a simultaneous moment of awe when we see ourselves in the other’s eyes—every time feeling like the first time. Also everyday feels like the tenth lifetime we’ve been made for each other.

I taste the salt of your kiss and my soul is full—fed at long last—I have hungered for a thousand years. There is nowhere else to be, nothing to do and no one is watching. And who gives a f*ck if they are?

I was meant to be here and for that I will never be ashamed. I have never run from anything in my life—except love—and for the first time I find myself running towards it.

Hoping each day it will meet me in the middle and crash into me, consuming me, melting me, stripping me of my fears and setting me on fire.

Each day, you crash into me with a brilliance I have never before seen and a passion that I never believed I would
feel from another person.

I believe the heavens converged and had a meeting and decided that this was our time.

It was not a simple plan and there were many drafts, many crossed out letters and scribbled noted in the margins of the story. Oh but the writing—oh my darling, the writing.

It is the most beautiful writing this world has ever seen my love and it is written just for us.

You, my love of a thousand years, are the sunrise at dawn and awakening of my soul.

I have always loved you and there is such beauty in the familiar but still magic in the mystery. For although I know your secrets and have seen your naked heart, the mystery remains in life. In the universe that surrounds us, it brings us together and pulls us apart, the story that we continue to write amidst the ever changing tides washing around us.

I love your beautiful wild soul—a soul that will not be tethered and will not be tamed. A chaser of dreams and the light; I have seen and know your darkness and I love the shadows as much as I adore the sunshine in your smile.

I can dance in your arms forever and store our stolen moments and breathless conversations in a beautiful wooden box in the garden of my soul. I can take them out anytime I need to smile and laugh out loud into the world.

You give me a kiss full of quiet wishing and promises dreamed almost into life and I breath your daydream back into you, curling into the warmth of your arms, your safe arms.

I can paint your dreams into life and I know that I make you the happiest man alive.

I have never felt certain in someone’s presence—certain of who I am, of who they are—until you. Surrounded by our love, I have never felt stronger. I am protected with you and I know that you will love me forever, even if we are worlds apart.

My heart is safe with you and I think for a moment that—if it is alright with you—I can just leave it with you for safekeeping for the rest of my life. For for I never wish to love another. Someday, if you leave me, I will gladly walk the rest of my days alone, rather than settle for the mediocre arms of another. Beside you, everyone else pales.

You are the one designed for me, the midnight samba under the harvest moon, that I have been searching for my entire life.

My mind runs away to you when you are not home in my arms and when it finds you out in the sky, I am almost able to rest again.

We are the water, the air and the sun, the wild gypsy wandering and the homestead finally found.

We come together of our own free will, without the confines of obligation or duty. We come together in a place of love and admiration, of mutual respect and desire. A place of passion, unconditional trust and honesty—two hearts lusting for an endless adventure and a quiet togetherness where home is felt, not bought.

We are whole people on our own and together make something so magnificent it quiets the farthest corners
of this mad world and it whispers nothing is impossible.

Together we are a miracle and the world cannot help but catch it’s breath and stare.

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Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photo: wikipedia