Heavy Heart

I wonder what love is. The way it tickles, pricks. Makes you known to senses you weren't even sure existed. The sensitivity your skin begins to know, with the grazing of an arm, a mere glance can send numbness to cover your entire soul. Turning red, hit the ceiling. Sometimes it's not always easy to tell the way you love someone. There are instances where you say it, even to yourself, and you know you mean it. But the rest of the time, when you're not caught up in that person in that moment, it doesn't really seem true anymore. But sometimes it is. I wonder what it means to know real love, because what is built in my head is only a whimsical hope. It was never anything more. I look at him from across a room and with every bone in my body feel safer than a child in its mothers arms. There is a completeness to my smile when he draws it on my face. One I hate, but can't help but love - mostly for what it's worth. I didn't know much about sincerity until I began to see how much he means every word. How every time we touch, I don't feel so alone in the universe anymore.