Short love story

Love.

Call it what you want-that burning feeling in the back of your mind whenever you think of him and all of your thoughts go awry and your heart speeds up, pushing your blood around your body like it's in a big hurry to go absolutely nowhere-call it obsessive, call it pathetic (I sure as hell don't feel pathetic), call it crazy if you want-the burning, the aching, the sheer longing to see him, the crooked smile, the stern jaw that locks when I laugh at the wrong moments, the wonderful mouth that kisses me goodnight, and sometimes good morning (as well as all of the blacked out parts in between goodnight and good morning), the beautiful artistic hands that draw me pictures and hold my hands when I cry and laugh and listen to what is wrong-call me all of the above, because I love him so much that my very essence of being screams his name twenty-four/seven in the deepest recesses of my mind as a not-so-subtle reminder of my absolute devotion and adoration and I now hold my breath just thinking of his wonderful spirit and his beautiful face and that is what I call love