I sit, in the confines of white walls, and think of color. Of reds brighter then the sweetest rose. Of greens, fresher then even the newest grass. I see on these white walls the mural of my love for him. With sweeping waves of my hand I paint it in my heart. This thoughtful, quiet, loving man who for whatever reason has chosen me. Inspires such a deep change within myself. Where I once was full of color and had losts it I am again. Where once my voice rang and grew silent, it sings again. I am all at once alive. He sets me aflame in such a way that I am burning even now for him.
There is more to love then sex but there is something so unnaturally satisfying about listening to him breathe heavy against my chest. His muscles aching to press closer, his heart pounding. Its a reminder yet again that I am alive. That he's brought me back from that dark place and given me....color.
He showed me the ring. It has to be sized. Its a frustration. I want to show off what he's given me. Its lovely and delicate - something I would never have picked myself. Something I would never have allowed myself to want. Now its mine, albeit a bit to small, but mine - something I can wear proudly. I am his.
I don't know what pushed me to write this. Another one of those "GASP! He loves me!" moments i guess. Mostly I just needed to put it down somewhere. I am in love in such a horrible, deep, everlasting way - and I'm frightened.
Not of what could be or will be but of what won't. I've been so used to misery that its like leaving an old friend behind. I do so willingly but its still awkward. Waking up in his arms, and feeling his slow breathing there beside me... I know now that he loves me just as I am and that I don't have to worry about getting old and unattractive. He'll still be right there beside me. I've found the one. That fairytale perfection everyone looks for and few find. It found me.
Huzzah! lol
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