First Love (part 8)

I can’t sleep,
I’m unable to settle
my mind around
the words used
for the love letter
to her, so far it reads:

“It’s not by mere
infatuation that I
struggle to perfect
every sentence I say…
it’s more.
I’m breathless
in your absence and
your presence,
a simple thought
causes frailty…
it’s more.
I’m certain that if
I open my window
you’ll answer
my call
and if I stumble
you’ll laugh at
my fall…
its more.”

I’ll try ‘til twilight
and then leave
so I can be present
in her morning.

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