My joy is the long fingers tucked between mine.
No space between to give room to dark clouds of doubt.
Squeezing, grasping, to keep my demons out.
I guess this is what you could say my love is.
Not a person, not flesh and soul though intertwined, but my heart resting comfortably in the embrace of yours, oh so kind.
Perhaps one day my dreams of my heart being not only comfortable, but joyous too, are reachable and attainable.
Yearning for another, the need so strong, compulsion so forceful.
Those feelings are not dark, but bright and colorful.
The same kind that make you choose to run and make your sensible mind scream “be careful.”