You do not know love
until you are painfully familiar
with the constant ache that takes ownership of your soul
far too often when you are without him by your side

you do not know love until your mind is sewn
with thoughts of him
scattered in every creek
until there is not an empty or peaceful corner to back away into
without bumping into a plantation within the garden
that he has grown inside of you

you do not know love until his hands explore your skin as though
it is a map of the world that you plan to venture through together
and even the green and blue running through your wrists are now a subtle representation of the globe that you shall journey through together

and he brings to you
the warmth
that will hit you both
when you step off the plane in an unfamiliar land

the hurried bustle through a crammed airport
as you rush for your flight
with laughter in your eyes whilst your luggage flies
in the same way that you feel you are when you're with him

you do not know love until his lips are medicinal
and each kiss possesses the power to heal
and you were so broken to begin with

you do not know love until when you are in is presence
you feel the platonic plates of the earth halt beneath your feet
and you daren't breathe
in fear of losing a second of the moment that you know will already fleet by far too soon

you do not know love until his laughter is music to your ears
and amongst a shop of worthless CDs
consisting of auto-tuned pop garage of false teen romance
he is your one favourite record
with lyrics so beautiful that you wish to replay them again and again
and if he was infact,
made of vinyl
you would hesitate to remove his dust cover
in fear of ruining the art that he is

you do not know love until he opens his mouth
and a fountain of words pour out
and you are hanging on to each and every one
until you are almost drowning in a sea of his ramblings
and you do not wish for a life jacket
but instead,
you wish for nothing more than to let a sea of his rants
wash you up and leave you on the shore
decomposed and gasping for breath

you do not know love until his touch becomes a portal
into another planet in which it is only you two that exist

you do not know love until you lay to the soundtrack of his heartbeat
and you discover the reason as to why you were homesick for all those years;
because home is in his arms

you do not know love until you are hooked on him like a drug
and there is not a sober vein left in your body

I dreamt of you (again).
It's a bit weird
for that to happen
with someone
I so rarely talk to
but there you were,
there we were.

In my room
on a rug I don't own,
flat on the floor
staring up at
the ceiling fan
listening to some
indie band on vinyl
that apparently
you seemed to like,
and we were smiling,
(I don't know about you
but smiling isn't something
I do too frequently
outside of sleeping visions)
and it was
as if it'd
finally
found us, the
happiness
we wanted.

Like watching an indie flick that
uses too much 'cam filter'
I saw it all unfold,
those two figures there
on the floor, song
ending and
your hand,
mine,

together.
the dream was
over as
the alarm rang.
god I hope
this happens.
I don't own
a record
player but
for you I'll
buy like ten
to make this
reality.