anna is my favorite love.
She's home.
Nothing has ever made sense to me before, and I never quite knew what certainty was. Now I'm all in and I swear the world has its teeth out for us.
I just want to keep coming home. To keep this pair of fucking melting planets looking back at me. To wrap myself around her as tight as she's wrapped herself to me.
I remember telling all my past lovers that I could never promise a damn thing to them. People change and feelings change and promising things seemed foolish and irrational. Fast-forward to now. I'm sitting on my bed with the taste of this beautiful person in my mouth. With her scent lingering around me. Her sounds echoing. Her image perpetually unveiling. I'd promise it all. I'll say all the words and pour it out like a gushing wound that I am. And that certainty shit that I mentioned before? I'm certain she'd stitch up my wounded ass.
This is that crazy love type that I'd always so blithely ridicule. We've got a honeymoon phase for fucksake. We're disgusting. We display PA. Not giving a fuck about who sees. We're on the phone for 12 hours straight, and we've been at that for most of this damn year. I'm a teenager again going steady with the girl that I'd always had a crush on.
I'm mush. I'm a puddle.
I'm sprung.
Boing...
boing...
