i am not young anymore to confuse a physical high with solid enduring love. and i am not 16 even though i act like i am with my passion for physical contact. a touch is wanted and felt in me. it opens my mind. makes me dream. i am sure there is a medical term for this disorder. and just because they depict crazy for love in the movies…doesn’t mean I don’t know better.
it was nice to meet you. you saved my ass once, maybe twice and i will always be grateful to you for that. you spoke to me and could carry on a conversation and could walk next to me in the street. and i liked that. you held me and heard me every time i woke up and moved to wrap your arms around me…i can’t find words to tell you how much i needed that. you held me as i slept…i fit with you…you made me laugh. you taught me.