Superman,
You ask me to write of you, for you. I can’t. You’re too real and close to comfort for me to do justice to what the rest of the world thinks we have. Fuck, we’re so entangled that without you I’m at a loose end. I close my eyes and picture you and for some strange reason when I see me I’m always running towards you– slow motion, fast track, all the right reasons – a blur of madness before I crash into you and I’m hit with warmth and comfort and my own brand of cocaine. I’m addicted to you. You’ve let me slip into myself and take pride in it. You’re like an old chair that’s taken the shape of my body, I’m so comfortable I couldn’t, wouldn’t move even if you begged me to. When I’m standing next to you I can feel peace steal through my veins. It’s beautiful. I feel beautiful. You are beautiful. People always talk about ‘right time, right place’, but you, my love, are the ‘right person’ and together we make it the right time and the right place. Trying to explain the feeling that swirls through my blood when I’m with you is like getting a terrorist to pray for peace, impossible. Sometimes, I think I’m not worth you, but then you hug me and I KNOW I’m safe. First base, second base, third base, homerun, SAFE. We skipped, but then again, that’s just how we roll na? A rebel without a cause and superman straitlaced by kryptonite. I love you. Fight with me, for me?
Niv.
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