If I could compare you to anything, it would be the ocean.
You are much like the fear I have of it—the fascination with its mysteries. I long for you as much as I long for its waves, the depth of it all.
In your arms, I felt like I was floating in your sea.
Head submerged underneath, and I have no need to breathe.
Every sound muted except for your beating heart; yes, I’m terrified of sinking, but the way your waters move felt like home.
I want to collect seashells from the bottom of your soul, all the sharp broken pieces from your past; I want to keep them somewhere safe for you to watch but far enough that they never hurt you again.
And if I could compare looking into your eyes to anything, it would be the sky, not the moonless dark sky, not the bright sunlit one. The in-between, with the fading darkness and awakening of light. The one you can still see the stars scattered across, but feel the warmth of the sun as it starts to rise.
They draw me in, and I could sit there and count the stars behind them for days.
So much light hidden behind them. So much warmth.
If I could compare your voice to anything, it would be the most saccharine melody ever composed.
The ways you dissect sounds and tunes leave me speechless; it puts me in a state of trance. I can see your lips move, and I can hear the words you speak, but then my ears turn into this portal, leading you directly to my soul—I am exposed.
I was once told that the soul travels when we sleep, escorting our minds into new realms and worlds beyond our imaginations.
My soul took me to places I never want to visit again, suddenly I met you, and in your embrace, I can sleep free.