This time, all it took was 672 hours. A dazzling 672 hours that I wouldn't trade with anything else in the world. Within it, beholds the wonders and magical moments I've been robbed off for the past 33 months. I've been putting myself down for so long in order for another individual to step all over me for herself to get back on her 2 feet. So for the first time in a long time, I feel elevated that the only thing I'm holding up is my noggin.

I used to write words of lust and misadventures, from exploring the anatomy not found in books to leaving behind scars of a heartbreak warfare. This time there's no lilac beam seething through the mom chosen drapes, no exchanging of body heat, no bodily outline of sweat on linen sheets and no peripheral vision serving a linear purpose.

It was pure intellectual stimulation, authentic conversational invigoration, some sort of a 24 karat magic in the air if you may.

The only thing that's wrong with this whole picture is that I'm afraid.

I'm afraid. I'm cowering under my paranoia at the thought of giving this a shot. I know for a fact that I'm on the losing end of this chase, but that usually wouldn't stop me after I've reached a definitive answer. In my head, I've already lost and I'm prepping myself for my inevitable downfall. 

I've already lost myself halfway through this post wanting to explain how fascinating this human being is but you could probably imagine that by now if the thought of her already managed to cease my chain of thoughts, she's gotta be some sort of special something i don't know.

Too much, too fast, infatuated, but still yearning for her other hand to join mine to make our first clap. Hopeful I was, hopeful I still foolishly am. Hopeful I don't fall too hard, hopeful she'll break my fall.

Hopeful for the day my name escapes her lips and she searches for mine while her eyes are sealed.