Written for, and about, the girl I love.

We stood in each other’s comfort, holding one another for a moment or two. I could hear nothing distinctly but her breathing – inhaling, and then gently exhaling, I could feel the warmth of her breath on my neck. These moments filled me with peace. I placed my left hand on her waist, and with my right hand I delicately brushed her hair – which, dark brown and full of shine, dangled carelessly yet beautifully over her eye – out of her face. And as I did this I beheld her at her most beautiful. I looked into her glisteningly gorgeous blue eyes, and as she looked back I felt her gaze penetrate my soul. I knew at this moment that my heart was hers. And that she would treat it tenderly, keeping it close to her own. And I knew that even if she were to plunge it into acid, or to drop it into the deepest of volcanoes, that every blissful second spent with her would be worth any culminating pain. She smiled angelically at me, and I was in awe of her. I smiled back. And with my right hand rightfully around her neck – my left still happily sat on her waist, her arms around my neck – I kissed her on the lips. And I tasted her soul. And I knew that her heart was mine.