Love

A contorted image appears in my mind, perhaps because of you. I can't really think straight in your presence anyway. I wouldn't be surprised.

Carefully, I hold the strange pictures in my thoughts, zooming in and out, trying to capture a meaning to it.

The silence is comfortable, warm even. It holds no trace of awkwardness, no trail of boredom. It provokes me, entrances me, encourages my thinking. It does not speak of the distance wedged between us at the moment, the small, insignificant little bit that I probably am imagining, as you don't seem to notice it at all.

And suddenly the distance between us is breached. By you. Smiling, I find words for my beautiful, contorted image. I think that you'd understand.