My heart hurts anyway. Might as well use it for creative gain.
I could try and dress this up, make it fancy or turn it in to a poem. But this isn't ruled by rhythm. This is messy. It hurts and it is the best feeling in the world.
Feeling, not only in your heart, but your head, your gut, hell, even down to the tingling in your finger tips, that you belong with someone; it's messy. It's not something anyone can fully explain.
Sometimes, you don't even notice it, but it's always there at the back of your mind, ready to be brought forward by a familiar smell, or their favourite colour.
Other times, you feel as though everything in your body is reaching for them, aching to go to them instead of leaving.
It's scary, imagining that some day they will be gone. Knowing that they will never feel the same. Knowing that how you feel, is loud and bright and full of colour, but you're too far away for the person you love to even register it. Even notice you.
Because we can laugh, we can smile. I can dream and hurt. But in reality, there is nothing between us that stretches close to how I wish we were.
It's why I like to live in dreams, why I sleep, why I write. To escape a reality where you will never love me, like I love you.