How She Makes Me Feel …
Like consuming whole stacks of Oreos
Each leaning tower slathered from whole milk
Or maybe skim, it depends on my mood
That pleasing mood of completeness and it shows
Where I’m the leaning tower, and she desires my ilk,
And together we are cohesive, we are glued.
Desirable. That’s how she makes me feel.
Like the sun on early morning approach,
Divinity with each gilded ray of hope
Subtle yet powerful; but inside it burns.
Perpetually scorched or otherwise reproached
Because to love any less it couldn’t cope—
with. And in her passion no stone was left unturned.
Passionate. That’s how she makes me feel.
Like a freshly read novel when complete,
That response right after you snap the book shut
And breathe in a sigh of needed relief
As the body succumbs to the sense of replete
And the butterflies who continue to glut—
in my stomach, can placidly fall asleep.
Complete. That’s how she makes me feel.
There’s warmth in her trust, in being vulnerable
and in knowing she would never break my heart
Just like she will never be that damn cliché,
The girl who knows that she is memorable
but leaves chronic scars that tear you apart
She was not that girl yesterday or today…
Safe, That’s how she makes me feel.
There are still parts of me that are broken
And instead of prying open the cracks
She runs a blacktop company and seals me
Reviving the dying heart I was holding
Filling in those cracks which I’ve sorely lacked
Someone I can trust whose got my back, and feels me.
Loved. That’s how she makes me feel. Every day… And I Love her.