Wondering

How do I even begin to put into words these thoughts and feelings that I can't seem to even get a grip on in my own head?

You have your own issues - who doesn't? Yet the effect you have on me is dampened only by my realisation that all of this is temporary. This conversation will end and we'll have to get back to our own realities. It's funny how you both ground me and take me on flights with the highest of altitudes and reckless abandon - how can we forget about reckless abandon. I come to you with aches and scars where they tell me my heart is supposed to be. In sharing our pain and the most twisted of humour, you fill the nooks and ridges with this new kind of joy and love; something foreign yet comfortably familiar. It stings a little, burns even. Like red hot molten iron being poured into a mould. I guess anything would hurt when you're still so tender and raw. I seek refuge in your company and comfort in your gestures. How you always seem to know exactly what to say and even when you inadvertently flirt, you do so in the most adorable of ways. It is what it is, you will always be the one who got to know.

Everyone else isn't worth writing about I guess.