Every time you walk in the room, my breath stops. Every time we touch my heart skips a beat.

     You are constantly on my mind.

     I wish I could tell you so.

     I'm frustrated by my inability to describe my feelings for you. Like anything else, when my verbal words fail, I try to escape through writing.

     But I'm clueless. Motionless. Thoughtless

      I'm given a pen and told to write. It's easy they say. Just write what's on your mind. Write what's in your heart.

      But how can I focus on anything meaningful, when everything comes back to you. When every stroke of inspiration stems from your existence. When you've infiltrated all my senses.

      Every flash of colour. Every flicker and sparkle of light. Every memory. Every view of the sky, from soft early light to the scorching brightness of mid-day, to the darkness sprinkled with glittering stars.

     Fits of giggles and cries of glee. The whistling of rustling wind. The chill of rain drops on my skin. Every breath of air filling my lungs. Smiles and flickers of emotion.

     Everything comes back to you.

     And to mix them all togheter. To feel the electricity of your skin stroking mine, when your gaze fixates on mine and the smell of your shampoo fills the air.

      It's enough to short-circuit my brain.

     You.

     There's only you.

     Everything else fades.

      The few moments my gaze doesn't find itself magnetized to your body, still I see you. Even with my eyes closed, you're there. In sound and in presence.

     My gaze drifts to the lamp fixture and I see the way the light from the lamp post sparkled in your eyes that night we walked aimlessly down stranded roads.

     I look out the kitchen window, and see the view from your room when we fell asleep stargazing.

     I see the rack of kitchen appliances and remember you play fighting with your sister, with a spatula in hand and a strainer on your head.

     I see a blue shirt and think of the blue irises that so often captivate my attention.

     Someone's freckles become the flecks of brown in your eyes.

     I can't see a book or look at the stars without thinking of you.

     I see the colour pink or red and think of the blush that so often takes over your cheeks.

     Every smile, despite the lips' owner, becomes yours.

     A random pair of shoes become your feet nudging mine to get my attention.

     Every article of clothing or accessory pales in comparison to what has decorated your body.

     Everything transforms into a physical and emotional portrait of you.

     The smoothness of the water running down my throat equals the smooth , leathery sound of your voice.

     Any person's laughter fades into your melodic giggles and boisterous cackles.

     The wind rustling through my clothes becomes your skin brushing against mine.

     The thirty inches length of the wooden table supporting my arms, is thirty inches separating our bodies.

     The chair beneath my bottom is the sole thing keeping my upright.

     My body threaten to sway, because hidden beneath the table, there's the soft brush of someone's toes against mine.

     Not just someone.

     You.

     It's always you.

     Everywhere I look there's a reminder of you... A painful reminder that you're no longer by my side.