My moon.

I’m not a very spiritual person and I never really was. But, since meeting you, since dating you I look at you and the way you stare back at me with those gorgeous brown eyes proves that there has to be some sort of divinity higher than you and I. Your voice is my reason. Your scent is my vice. Your skin is my shelter. I’d read you from cover to cover over and over again like you were my bible.
When I’m weak, I call to you. When I’m hurt, I cry to you. When I’m troubled, you listen. You are my sanctity. My one true devotion.
I can never repay you for restoring the faith within myself. I drink you in like you’re red wine.
I think of you at stupid times, like when I buy a soda at a vending machine and I pick your favorite drink or when I’m brushing my teeth and see how funny I look in the mirror and how you’d tell me I’m beautiful or when I bump my head as we play in bed and you look at me and laugh because i’ve done the same stunt millions of times before… and to think in amazement that of all the people in the world…you have chosen me.
I’m not perfect and I can’t promise. But being with you makes me want to at least try to be perfect in a million different ways and for a another million years.
I’ll hold you until your warm and better and I’ll distance myself so you can cool off and recollect. But i’ll stay a safe distance so you’ll never have to be alone through it. This I can promise and this I swear.
There is a saying that goes “the sun dies everyday to make sure the moon will always come out at night,”  and it is the epitome of how I carry my feelings for you within my heart. To finish off this rant, to let you scroll down the page, I’d like to take a moment to tell you that I love you and that you are my moon.