The fact that I love you so much only makes me hate you more.
My stomach is in knots. You're miles away without love induced indigestion, I'm sure.
My heart hurts, and my mind doesn't even know how to kiss it and make it feel better.
You make me feel small.
Constantly I wonder what gives you this ability.
Fairly average in your demeanor and accomplishments, in many ways you pale in comparison to both myself and others that have come before you, and yet somehow I love you more.
I've let you in, fully.
My heart is a house for you. Furnished with love, and sacrifice, acceptance and forgiveness.
Where is my heart home? When will you build this for me?
I'm not sure how much longer I can wait, for I'm starting to get weathered.
I'm starting to get old.
I want to laugh and love with you. I want to be more than our parents have been. I want to have a love so much built on acceptance that nothing can shake us.
Do you?
Do you think on these things?
I don't want to face a life without you.
I'm pleading you to do these small acts for me.
But if you will not... I cannot stay.
I cannot keep my mind with you, if yours is not keeping it company.
I'm breaking apart, and down, like a crumbling brick wall, and the worst part about it is I'm not even sure if you've noticed.
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