01/31/2010

tha-thump..tha-thump…tha-thump

Love.

What is it? What is it to know someone so well and being honest with yourself and saying " I can’t see my life without this person". They know you, inside and out. They know your strengths, the beautifully perfect imperfections that signify your rarity in this world. They know the cracks in your armor. Your weakness, the flaws which say " hey, I’m not perfect".  Deep in your heart you want nothing more than knowing they want you just as profoundly.

You should always tell her, no matter whom she is. She deserves to know how very special she is. Mark this well, if you don’t  tell her, if you don’t say it to her face, level eyed and serious it’s you who’s going to pay the toll.

Regret.

Every day that passes the weight seems to encumber you, strangling your sleep with nightmares of what could be.

Of what should be.

Don’t be regretful for love.

When you met her for the first time, somewhere deep in your soul there was a sigh of relief, the comfort of old blue jeans that strangly feel so right for the first time as you slip them on.

I’m not the greatest at relationships. Sure, I have a keen observation or two to doll out but simply because I’ve fucked up enough.

Perfect? me? Hardly.

Don’t be that person with the letters stacked in the back of their closet, that old photo which you carefully have forgotten existed. Oddly struck with nostalgia as you accidentally find it for the sixteenth time.

Only to carefully misplace it with your belongings yet again.

When you love her, let it be deep.

Be able to look in her eyes and wordlessly make her blush because she knows you’re serious and that she’s the only one.

Remember first dates and details. Horde her letters and don’t be foolish and forget to send flowers for no reason in particular.

Simply because you can.

Because she means that much to you.

*steps off the soapbox*