Love Letter. Paragraph 1.

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You know that feeling when your heart is at the verge of exploding in your chest, but slyly makes its way fluttering up your throat, beating, buzzing and humming away? If you’ve tasted the first day of fall after a long, brutally hot summer– you know the verge of excitement I’m referring to. That first sentence, forming paragraphs–of potential love–being poured out lavishly over the fresh pages of an anticipated future. They tumble down slowly before they find their way rolling up again– like words curving upon a blank canvas–our life– written eloquently in letter form. Well that momentous rush of flutters have been pitter-pattering for days, threatening to breach the surface and divulge the truth of it, for all to see.
His eyes are deep set, large and engulfing. Does he know that I see so much? Keep it together… keep it together… he’s watching me… he’s watching… Even through the distance, I can feel him desiring. His insatiable desire to devour every part of myself–through my story– hanging off my every word as I culminate the best of me–nothing but the very best, for him. But I’m casually cool, only ever-so-slightly running over with emotions–holding it all in– walking neatly in line, so as to stay within the boundaries of his good graces. His glare, it is inescapable. He’s the kind of man that swallows up the whole room, like the ocean unapologetically fills up the entire sea bottom– and yet, owns it protectively and effortlessly with his endearing southerly, gentlemanly charm. His hair is unruly, unkempt—the kind of hair young babes get tangled in, caught up in as they find themselves stumbling over themselves just to catch his glance. Someway, somehow, I know his eyes have been issued only for me–he’s already predetermined so. Those fiery eyes are like a wonder of the world cave, one home to the deepest most remote lake–the kind that are far reaching below sea level–one whose waters rest untouched. He’s horrible at taking pictures, he says, and blames it on multitasking–but even still his cool glance casts shadows that surround me—yet I’m full of life, full of his kind of captivating light.

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