To be hopelessly in love.
It is to die
To be reborn in the light of something you feel you need
It is to fall, to fall until you are caught, or until you hit the bottom
Both can take a lifetime.
It is to lie awake at night, thinking of him
And then dreaming of him too.
It is to take a breath, and breathe in him
To feel him in your lungs, your soul, your heart, your mind, your fingers, your core.
It is to want him. To need him. To think of him every day, every second.
To be inexplicably unable to think, to speak.
To find that your heart, without him, doesn't beat.
To hope you see him everywhere you go, and to find that when you do, you can't help but smile.
To make every excuse to be with him.
To make habits of being there for him and needing him even more.
It is to hold your guard until he comes crashing through your gates.

It starts with a flicker.
And dies in a flame.
It is feeling butterflies when he's near you.
It's to hear a song and cry, because it reminds you of him.
It is for him to break your heart and he doesn't know it.
It's to not tell him.
To wish for his embrace, to long for his voice.
It's to want his time, his love. Him.
It's to walk the streets thinking of him, wishing he were there to walk with you.
It's telling your friends every little thing he does, then pretend they don't know, even though it's obvious.
It's to protect him with your mind.
To love if he texts you or calls you.
To hate it if he doesn't.
And it's to be wrapped around his finger, though he doesn't see you hanging there.
Because no matter how much you love your liberty, being irretrievably in love, is not something you can change.

To be hopelessly in love is the best and most painful thing in the world.
And when you hit the ground, you find how long the fall was.
Just how small you feel.
And just how hard it is
to fall
again.