Oh, but at first I only wanted to own you. So enamored with the find of such a beautiful soul when I wasn’t even on the hunt was as much a surprise to me as it was to you. You were physical proof of an unspoken hypothesis on the nature of love, and though it may have felt like I wanted to suffocate and stuff you with kindness before hanging you on my wall, it was the warmth of your internal organs that burned down the ones I’d been building since birth.

Such laughter you inspired with your discourse about wrecking balls, not because it was funny, but because it brought me joy that finally I’d found someone who’d knelt upon the rugs of their own heart to deliver meaning to another, meanings that shared were like songs with split hairs. We each found nonsense in the reality that we didn’t know one another whilst in the knowing of ourselves, decided against tossing pure thoughts away with those laced in the salts of lust.

Today I smile, cry, and hold my head high, working to become more because of you, while endlessly frustrated in the lack of adjectives that exist to turn my passion into a compelling story of undying love, that were it to be believable, might change the trajectory of humanity’s mortality rates and its broken-hearted dispensations. Yes, I believe love is that powerful and hope that restorative.

Oh, but at first I only wanted to own you, and you taught me to own Love instead.

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