Does your heart and mind ever whisper words of desire for my presence, or cries of my absence?
Until we’re flown from sober state, until we’re alone amongst strangers, does your arm wrap around me, does your eye fix its gaze on mine, does your smile chain itself to my sight.
Why do you not speak?
Why do you not ask of me?
Why do you not fight for my company or thoughts?
Am I simply another flower in the garden you have grown fond of in the spring, to pamper and to grow, but will forget quite simply once winter arrives when you have grown fond of the fireplace instead.
"Because if How I Met Your Mother has taught us anything, it’s that if we want to see something legendary happen, we’re going to have to wait for it.”
And you my darling are as beautiful.
And it’s those short-lived moments with you that I feel like I’m alive again.
Where nothing else in the world would matter.
My heart races at every playback I have of those minutes.
The thrill of your fingers upon my hips grasping at the beats of the pounding music, your lips on mine for a few quick seconds, your arm wrapped around my waist in the cold air walking home, tired and collapsing under your sheets, your hand holding mine as we gently sleep away the night.
How I wish every night could be that night, wishing you would actually be mine.