"Make me pacient when i worry
Make me calm when there is strife
Make me loving when my heart is hard
Make me forgiving when i would be right"
It's not that I can't write about you, it's that I shouldn't say somethings...
You can imagine, then, that it feels something like suffocating [because writing is what i know how to do is express you within and your intimate core.
How do you reconcile the flesh and blood with the voice you have known for years? The way in which you spin words captivated me from the age of "not-yet-woman" until this very moment, when now, past the awkward and the insecure, I am finding myself resting one hand upon your warm cheek and placing a single kiss on your forehead.
So here I am. Every day. Hearing you in my head and seeing you in my mind's eye. Happy and tormented, all at once and together. Wishing that in those long, drawn out moments when we are not together I could abstract myself from you, to spare myself the frustration of remembering that while I barely know you, I miss you. And you're right here, next to me, or in the other room.
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