3:01 p.m. | 2007-03-05
Your Hands In Your Pockets and Your Innocent Eyes
That sick-to-your-stomach sort of all-I-want-to-do-is-curl-up-and-think-about-us kind of new love? Where your mind, when it wanders elsewhere, always wanders to the same place? Where there's no promises and no reality and no proof of anything besides what happened.
It makes me wonder if my heart gets wrapped up in everything or if I'm smart enough to let it only go pitter patter for the right types of people.
We all know that he wasn't one of 'the right people' but he at least had characteristics of it. He had shining moments of 'wow, I'd marry that' and grey foggy mornings of 'I could lay like this forever.'
Whether or not this will continue, or get better or worse or whatever, I'll live on this high right now. I'll sniff it in and make myelf light headed and hope that it never goes away.
Because I'd love it if life proved to me that love is what I think it is. I'd be overjoyed if it decided to tell me that giggling on end and smiling non-stop and tossing in your sleep is al natural and that it'll only get better.
I can only hope that better than this exists.