The problem is, I could love you.

I mean really love you.

The kind of love that sustains a lifetime. You make me crazy. You are my opposite, the yin to my yang.

You scare the hell out of me because I know that once I let myself go, I’m not going to stop. The floodgates of my heart will drown me when you are gone from my life.

You say you have trouble with feelings and I am all encompassing emotion. I ride the pendulum wave, absorbing everything, always seeking balance.

You are highly rational, precise, action oriented. I admire you more than you know. You can build, fix, create. Your natural intelligence is your badge of honor to the point of becoming a wall. I want to tear down your walls and set fire to your heart. I want to consume you and build you up, higher than you thought possible.

I want to give you intimacy and unconditional love. The kind of affection that makes you never question my feelings for you.

I want to challenge you on all levels. I want to make you insane to the point that you grow. I want to learn from you and see the world through your eyes.

I want to sweetly kiss your broken pieces and lace my fingers through yours so you know I will always stand beside you.

My heart swells and falls with intensity when I stop to consider it all.

I hide and step away from you. I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want you to shatter my heart so that I have to mend it back together. Yet still I open my heart, trying to be free of fear.

You have said there is no way forward for us and that we should cherish the moments we have. I think you are being naive.

It’s not my body that you crave. You find solace in my eyes. Only a man in love falls for the depths of a woman’s soul. You return to me, seeking me out like an animal wandering in the wild.

It’s our polar distance that causes the friction and magnetizes us. The solar wind is the beauty of our storm. So I am inexplicably drawn to you by the connection that time and circumstance can’t seem to erase. You are burned into my skin.

Now all I can do is await, impatiently, my own destruction. 

 

Author: Danielle Anderson

Image: Pixabay

Editor: Callie Rushton