the threads in her head

Your presence.

A flush of warmth. Your skilful hands writing, writing, the pen running across the paper; the writing messy, yet beautiful, because they are yours. Flexing your fingers, spinning your pen. I look on, not daring to seem interested. But I am. There's a special burst of emotions in my heart, one that only I can feel, to be able to see you so.

You smile. My world lights up. Your voice finds its way, over the noise of others, to my ears. Because, they are meant for me. Such rare pleasant notes... how I wish I could bottle them up. If sound could be seen I know your voice would be the most beautiful thing in the world. Why wouldn't it be? Beautiful, beautiful, like your smile.

Yes, your smile. So many times I've tried to capture it, so many times I felt that I still had not done it justice... drizzled with dewdrops, as radiant as the sun, touched with the sweet curve of the rainbow... but how do you describe a smile that has been kissed by love itself, and glows with the very essence of it?

I could look into those dark eyes of yours forever, so full of kindness they are. How I long to do so, to hear your voice in my ear, and to have you, just sitting beside me. How secure that would make me feel, to know that I have someone, you, by my side.

And if I could, I would want to wipe off every worried crease from your brow, be the one who sets your smile off, do antics that makes those lips curve upwards, so that your voice would always be merry and brimming of joy and hope.

Oh how I wish, how I wish, how I wish...