Aside from the life-changing and heart-crushing power of it, though, I want the small things that go along with giving your soul to another person. I want to go to sleep with somebody beside me who won't be gone in the morning. I want to share cigarettes and coffee, watch old movies and hold hands in parks. I want somebody to touch my cheek and tell me they love me, and mean it with everything that they are. I want hugs that last for hours until we both fall asleep. I want kisses that make me feel so much I could cry. And I do cry thinking about it, this love I'll probably never have.
You've always told me that love must be like a hurricane, sweeping away everything safe and leaving you exposed, with only trust protecting you. I think that's the best description I've ever heard...and I'm strangely jealous that you have a better idea of it than I do, and that you said it with such conviction. Like you already knew what it felt like and you already had what I wanted. It wasn't just jealousy of what you had though, it was the stirring of something I'd never felt before in my life. Confusing and brilliant all at once, just like you.
A door opens and I don't even look up, lost in thought and on the edge of frustrated tears when I feel your hand on my shoulder. The feeling of your gentle fingertips through my thin tee shirt sends tingles up my neck and down my spine. I feel you crouch down next to me and your breath ghosts against my cheek for a sweet, fleeting second. Your hand moves to the middle of my back in an accidental slide and I draw in a shaky breath. "You okay?" you ask, looking completely concerned and worried. It breaks my heart.
I look into your eyes...and...and...
Sometimes I wonder if love will ever happen to me. Then I think of you and realize that it already has.
