"Who is your heart beating for?"

Have you ever felt like there was an entirely new world inside the eyes of the person you love?

I've made it a habit lately of asking questions that no one can actually answer. It's not that they're rhetorical - I honestly don't know the answer, and I'm certainly not trying to prove a point. I just accept that it's likely that I'll never have an answer for them. That's never been a good enough reason for me to keep my mouth shut, and that applies now as well.

I feel like roses stemmed from love. The redness of a petal comes from how deeply some goddess in the classical period blushed, touched by the love that was expressed by a god. It would make sense, would it not? The greatest love of all is only found when one is not afraid to deal with thorns along the way.

I feel like there's an entirely different world to see than I've ever thought was possible, but only when we're making eye contact. The mornings that there's blue encircling your perfect brownandgreen are the mornings that I close my eyes and I'm swept away, on the middle of a lake in a boat that's being paddled by the only person I'd ever trust enough to paddle out on a lake with. And it'll rain - c'est la vie, but your love will be my umbrella. It's the perfect kind of soaked, in my mind. I never get past the part where it rains and I'm happy though, because your lips press against mine and I'm torn to a time of Christmas Mornings and Brand New Snows and Fourth of July's and Coming Homes. A time that you're staring at me, inches from me; a holiday within itself.

I don't know where I'm going to college

or what kind of a house I want

or how next year will be

or when I'll be able to drive legally

or where I'd like to go on a honeymoon

or how many kinds I want to raise

or every name I'd like to pick in case there's more than three

or how I'll handle the times they mess up

or how I'll handle the next time that I mess up.

But I know you.

And to know you

is to love you.

And then to

keep you.