when my lighter drops

drops

That one step.
I know i haven't felt my truthful love yet,
But she is the closest I will get at this very moment until.
We talk about so much, the hardship of life but somehow my feelings are the hardest to say.
There isn't one word to describe her. I could go on for hours about each and every feature that she has. The smallest little creases in her skin- which I can only imagine to be so soft and warm to the touch- the way she makes me feel.
The world creates such a euphoric feeling for each and every person.
The way you look at people and things is how it determines who or what gives you that euphoric urea.
Such a metaphorical way you can say about how I can describe her. Why? must you ask. The answer is unknown because she is unknown.
So much about her that I still yet have to meet but she will always be unknown.
My pretty girl doesn't just have one word to match her.
It's okay that she will never understand how I feel because neither do i.
Each and every word she speaks I feel so weak for. I will show her my heart- let her break it- i would feel nothing but grateful for her no matter the ending.
The world she creates for me is like getting that perfect spot in bed.
The way she speaks is like a beautiful piece of written work- a well thought out but simply effortless piano ballad.
The look in her eyes matches the spark the stars give me, the inspiration that all writers need- the reason behind this.
The smile that so gorgeously creeps up onto her face- it can swear by the moon of which is everlasting never the same- a constant movement of colour and realisation.
The sadness she will have is the wind. The painful ways you have to push through. It hurts but it will stop.
Her laugh. Soft and delicate like the night's rain. The day's background for when you shall lay down your head on their lap as you read.
Her words. Her name. Her touch. Her personality. Her warmth. Her comfort.
Her, her, her..... Her
One day her moon. Stars. Rain. Wind. Words. They will stop.
She will always be mine no matter if I'm hers or not. Even if she says all this to someone else for them to feel the beauty of which she is.
The howling of painful realisation will hit. That point of my life which she will have been in I won't ever forget. She can and will always be an important part of my life. Of how I felt. Of my home.
My, my moon, my star, my rain, my love, my pretty girl. The fine line between love and deeply falling into an epitome of an elegant life of love and heaven was you. but I ended up in the deep end. The feelings I can dwell upon but not explain.
To write a book it wouldn't be fictional because I could never imagine or make up the beauty of you and the way you created a new and loved version of myself. I can never give back to the earth for giving me my life but I can do my best. You're my earth that I can never deserve or repay.
It will never change for me, my pretty girl.