The feelings you convey with the
Sharpness of your gaze

Are as startling as glass shattering on pavement;
As soft as trees shedding on the sidewalk.

A kiss of the eyes,
A stab of the lips.

I wish I could be a sticky note
On your mirror
Or an alarm on your phone

To remind you every day of how much
I appreciate you, of how much I
Love you, because

I notice all the things you do for me, like buying me coffee in the morning or
Kissing me to cheer me up; better yet

Always being there; The magically disappearing
Dishes from the table and the texts
Of concern; the countless reminders

Of how important I am.
But oh dearest, how important you are,
Moreso than the tides and the stars,

Because every day you choose love.

I couldn't give a **** what heat engines are.
My job is to tell a couple little snot noses to sit their ***** down and drink juice - it's easy and I love it. I couldn't give a **** about heat engines.
(I mean, aren't all engines hot anyway?)
But when I watch you kneeling in front of a whiteboard, drawing out diagrams for your coworker about what you're learning in physics, my heart jumps out of my ******* throat and slaps my computer screen like a raw steak. Not exactly a romantic metaphor I know, but it's accurate.
I never thought Expo pens could be ****. I never thought math could be ****, for ***** sake. But you do it somehow.
Everything about you drives me nuts. Looking at you gives me the biggest feelings I've ever felt, and I get scared I'm going to explode. Really. People say stuff like that, but it's true - it feels like I'm going to explode like some sort of adorable grenade.
I don't know what to do with myself. Ever.
Go to church - yeah.
Get my degree - sure.
Go to work - totally.
But with myself? I have no ******* clue.
For one, I don't think I can come hang out with you at work anymore. You have a certain amount of professionalism to maintain, and I am a threat to that - in the most violently affectionate way possible. I am so close to tackling you in a bear hug and spooning you right here in this classroom. I never considered how painful it is to love somebody. In the best ways and the worst ways.

Now you're sitting in the armchair next to me, the ****** little coffee maker filling the air between us. You talk with your friends and draw  and type into your calculator and occasionally glance at me and every time you do anything, I  . . .  I can't. I can't even explain how it feels. You are the antidote and the virus to every part of me. Loving you has been the most exhilarating and most miserable experience of my life. Loving you has taught me how agony can be sweet. Loving you has changed my life and will continue to change my life.

I've lost interest in almost everything. School is school, work is work, books have become boring and friends have become obsolete. You feel the same way, and your Mom thinks you're depressed, but you're not. Neither of us are. We're so ready. We're so ready for something new.

I have never stared at someone so shamelessly in all my life. I could listen to you talk about heat engines for the rest of my life.
That's the plan, anyway.

The only thing I want any more,
Isn't for me, or for anyone else,
But for you to be happy

Because when that happens,
Nothing else matters, even if it means
Being a little more alone, on a weekend
Meant to be so together.

Sometimes our models of the
Universe don't quite work out;

Sometimes it's just a simple cause
And effect, micro like macro.

Now that my model of us is shattered
On the ground, a glass cookie jar subject

To the tantrum of a child, the electron
Moves forward in time once again;

Our entropy increases,
And we decay.

Like the positron,

I must be an anti-version of me,
Travelling back in time,

And the me here and now didn't
Travel this path by chance;

The effect of me knowing you must
Have caused me to find you,

Because you are too phenomenal
For me to have found you by chance.

Somebody talks to the wind
And chases it as if it will give in.
Somebody runs through the trees
As if somewhere along the lines
He could escape this life;
All hope to escape his lies.
Somebody keeps a secret and tucks it away,
Somebody puts it in a white box and covers it in clichés.
Somebody writes a letter and pens it with black ink
As if his markings start to sink
And hide his hidden mask he sees!
Oh what a temptation to take a peek;
To open the letter before it's time to read;
To run through the grass before the time of spring;
To drink all the wine and have nothing to eat;
To take the best times and leave none left for dreams;
To spend all the days wishing to have another;
To count down the time
Until
The
Very
Last
Number.

-In the end it wont matter whether we ever made it,
Whether the grass was greener or stayed forsaken.
In the end it wont matter what we stole and we got,
We will disappear into the earth, and we will be forgot.
The only thing that matters is when I go and transcend
That my love for you was constant; it was until the end,
For what a tragedy
For me to breathe
Without giving you my breath-