| the • lover | I'm his Mrs

I have blisters on my feet from how many times I have wandered through your head.

You see, my lover smells of cigarettes and candy-coated shampoo and when I look into his eyes, I imagine the green grass tickling my feet.
When his hand reaches for mine, one million butterflies collide in my stomach and I don't know how to calm them down.
He has secrets written on his battered skin and if you scratch enough beneath the surface, you will see that his heart, once tattered, is now glued to mine.
He is vivacious and between his dramatic messes, wrong turns, and unforeseen events, he still sees beauty all around him even though the problems of this world, sit like a burden on his mind.

I talk with the Universe about you.

I tell him how you raise my dopamine levels so high, that my heartbeats become deviant.
How you fill my bloodstream with warmth and peace and how all the tissues and organs in this fragile body are now yours.
How your heartbeats calm mine and just like a natural flow of energy, they intertwine.
How you let me crawl in one of the pockets from your heart when the world tries to eat me up and how you keep me there until it's safe.

For I once heard that Universe hates the sin but not the sinner.

He knows and forgives and bears no malice to words that come out in an ill-fated tsunami of sounds that don't relate. And in this great scheme called life, he made it possible for our heartbeats to be in sync.

And for that My love, you're worth it all.