Dear Love,

I am haunted by you, and the haunting is stealing the words from my heart and the clarity from my mind. I am losing the battle to hold tight to the strings of sanity that tie me to the soil and I feel them lifting towards the dark of the night sky like a balloon that just couldn’t stand the knots that tied its tail to the child’s wrist.

I heard once that people living deeply have no fear of death, and that all we are here to do is to love and that loving is living and it is only those that hold tight to the Home they have discovered know the feeling of pure bliss and fearless sleep. Where my mouth and my mind used to be a dictionary of words, an encyclopedia of thought and sentences leapt out of my mouth and now I have three, only three, the last of them all and they all belong to you. I am holding them until your hands are quiet and the shaking has passed and you can hold them without fear of dropping them and watching them shatter into fragments on the floor below you.

Know this: I would rather feel those words in your hands, shaking though they may be and be ready to catch them before they fall, if fall they do, than hold them safely inside mine for the rest of my days and never see your face light when you look down and breath in the realization that you’re finally holding them.

I do not know what to do with the fact that after all this time, and all this searching and all the writing of a thing I knew I would find, I have found it, and I am standing on the porch of the Home I have waited for, only to find the door locked and the curtains drawn and only the haunting and fragile image of a beautiful eye that mirrors mine, sunflowers on stormy skies, peeking through the crack in the window.

I know you can hear me; I know you feel the vibrations of the knocking, and I know you hear me screaming into the night air those three words that I’ve held for so long. I am tired of holding them, and I would rather sleep on the porch of the Home I have waited to find than in the biggest bed in the biggest home on the biggest lot in the biggest city in the biggest country on the biggest continent in this world. You are home to me, you have always been and I will never stop sleeping on your porch until the day comes that you open the door and with tears fresh in your eyes kiss me and I taste the saltwater and the longing and the breath you’ve been holding for far too long.

I will never be afraid to be ridiculous in my love for you and I will never stop, no matter how you choose to respond and how censored and held back and covered in fear yours may be.

My three words belong to you as they always have, so reach out your shaking hands and I will rest them gently upon them;

Three words: I Love You.

And 5, if I had 2 more to spare: I Will Always Love You.



Know that True Love is the only home you’ll ever need.



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