As grateful as I am,
I don’t want just the glimpses, the snippets, the footnotes.
I want it all, the whole fucking lot.
I want to stare at your face for a lifetime, lose myself in your words, and languish in the depths of your stories.
As precious as they are, the moments just aren’t enough.
As they come, I want to take them in my hand and expand them so that the fleeting seconds become time immeasurable.
I want to luxuriate in this infinity as if I’m high on the wings of love.
As beautiful as they are, I don’t want just the quiet whispers or gentle tone.
I want to hear your voice like the incessant birdsong of an early spring morning.
To hear it like the bass thumping through the radio playing all of my favourite tunes.
I want the laughter, the tears, the joy, and the anger. I want the whole fucking lot.
As together as I am, sometimes the pieces just don’t hold up.
But as broken as I am, I’m grateful for the glimpses, the moments, the whispers.

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