leaving cloud 9.

She gave him her secrets,
and intense inspiration.
He gave her his heart,
and succumbed her to passion.
He loved her laugh,
and he brought it often,
just like he brought her,
igniting her body,
with only his words.
He’s felt her hands,
an intense connection,
transcendent of distance,
when she wasn’t there.
Both living on wet dreams,
hopeful words, and sweet nothings,
but it was everything to them,
this adoration they shared.
She’ll miss her favorite things,
like the smell of his touch,
on his belongings,
the curl of his toes,
and his right pinky finger,
the way he’d call her baby,
then listen to her blushing linger,
the chuckle when she pleased him,
the sighs when she was pleasing him,
two a.m. conversations,
exchanging silly pictures,
Can’t believe you’re mine,
and I want you,
and I’ve always been yours,
having him as a best friend,
with the best benefits,
the butterflies,
and shuttered breaths,
his dark humor and quick wit,
to be alone but not so lonely,
pancakes and panicked moments,
his goodnight and his good morning,
how he teased,
his less than threes,
his excitement over boyish stuff,
and the sleep in his voice,
as he drifted late at night.
She cannot be resentful,
but this is the last one she’ll write.

Everything in life is balanced. There cannot be great highs without great lows. How disappointing it would be to choose to only experience the middle. – Buddhist Proverb

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