Darling, you are difficult, a wildfire, too hard to catch, too hard to love. But you need to know that I can't wait until the moment I will roll over at 3 am, to find your lips instead of a text; and if your hands were made of glass splinters, I'd hold them until my blood would run dry.
My thoughts can't move an inch without bumping into the thought of you, your voice, your smile, everything that you are made of, everything you are yet to become. Your words, your thoughts, your presence, dearest - that is the music I am dancing to.
Believe me when I say: no matter what my heart desires, I want it to be a place for you to call home.

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