I wouldn’t call it love.
He just happened to make me lightweight,
and lightheaded.
And sometimes I would have trouble speaking
when he was around.
He also happened to give me a weird warmth
that kept spreading in my stomach.
Also, if I was having a bad day,
seeing him would make it better.
His voice was as if I had heard it a thousand times before.
In another life.
A beautiful life.
He was beautiful.
Simply, stunningly beautiful.
But I wouldn’t call it love.
Why would I do that?
Little Pocket Journal 