February 2, 2015

My Love, If You Could Read My Mind.

depression sad girl lying on bed

Every day thoughts of you race through my mind, though I keep most of them to myself.

I like to submerge in the moments and let the vibrations touch every cell, leaving dusty imprints all over me without any interruption.

And I notice you notice, the look on my face, the intensity in my eyes or the smile on my lips.

Although I’ve told you and I’ve shown you and you already know all of these things and so much more, this is for the times when you need to hear it the most and I’m not there to tell you.

Read my words, close your eyes and imagine my voice whispering to you.

I love you. I love you, without reason, without doubt, without explanation. Without knowing where it came from and without knowing where it’s going.

I love you completely and freely with all that I have.

And I love the way your love is returned.

I love how you show me your love through the look in your eyes and how I feel it in the way that you hold me.

And, I miss you. Sometimes when you’re right here with me, standing next to me, although I have your company, I still miss so many things even if no time has passed since we last touched.

I miss your lips pressed against mine, or your arms folding me into you or when I can’t see that fire blazing in your eyes.

I miss the comfort in your warmth, or the smell of your skin and sometimes I just miss your voice when we’ve not spoken for a while.

I miss how the beats of your heart pulsate on my skin when we touch.

My love, how I crave you. My body aches to be close to you. I crave for your love and your passion and the depth and intensity of your soul.

I crave our future days and mostly those tender moments from days gone by. I crave your flesh, your bones, your raw and naked mind, I crave to touch beneath your surface and reach those paths still not trodden.

I adore how you look. Whether ruffled from the bedroom, cheeks slightly flushed, or dressed to see the day or those times when you lounge and just could not care.

Every piece of you, each fabric that touches your skin or falls to the floor to leave you naked, every wrinkle, each slight dimple and the tousling of your hair. I see your beauty, though I see it in ways that others never will.

The shades of your skin, the curves of your cheekbones, the glint that sparks only for me.

You are exquisite.

I desire you, you are my ecstasy, my addiction and you are oh so f*cking sexy. Incredibly.

I cannot get enough of you—but not just your body, though it really is divine. What heats me more is what goes on in within the well of your mind.

Your turn me up, you turn me on and you tamper with my frequencies, your electricity sets me on fire and your flames leave their mark.

You take my breath away. Sometimes I can’t even tell you how I feel when I look at you, as not only do I not have words to describe what you do to me, neither do I have the ability to speak.

You leave me speechless.You mesmerize me. You leave me in awe. You capture me.

You enchant me with your words. How I love to hear your rambling, the tired and talkative descriptions of your world which meets with mine.

You are the wind that lifts me up and my wings when I can’t fly; you let me glide, and when you tire, you allow me to carry you. You are unlike any other. You are raw, you are rare. You are the only one for me.

You are a unique and genuine masterpiece of all that I hoped possible, each wish I placed on stars, the end of every rainbow, the dream I often dreamt but never dared believe would come true.

You shake my world, you stir me up and move so much within, tangling the cords that have bound our hearts.

I am in love with you. Madly, hopelessly, deeply, fearlessly, completely, entirely and crazily all the way, totally embroiled in the most blissful kind of love, with you.

If for just one day, you could read my thoughts, you would understand how it feels to be me, so fortunate to be in love with one such as you.



For My Soul Mate—I Promise You This.


Author: Alexsandra Myles

Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Holly Lay/Flickr

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