We're entwined, so close that I can hardly breathe. You're coiled around my legs; I've wrapped myself in your arms.
I missed breathing, at first, but every step with you took my breath away. So I got used to it. I got used to inhaling the same air as you. Feeling what you feel and having everything I am become one with everything that you are.
At some point, carefully, those lips began to speak of the future. Of things that might be. I listened, half frozen in fear, and shivering with excitement. Everything that makes me what I am, span in blazing circles towards you, twisting and turning to wrap themselves around you.
To keep you. To hold you. To never let you go.
But you were not speaking of us. You were speaking of some imaginary love, someone who could be what you want. You have never noticed how I feel; the aching that fills me the minute you leave, and eases when you return.
More than anything, I want you to be happy. At least, that is what I tell myself. But secretly, all I want is you wrapped around me, in our own moment, where nothing can disturb us.
Where nothing can keep us apart ever again.