What I wanted was simple…black coffee and dark chocolate; your hand on my neck and your lips on my skin. I needed your undivided attention…for just a little bit, every day. I wanted to make you laugh and remind you to tread lightly; this life is so fleeting…and at the end of the day, I just needed the weight of your hand on my hip as I fell asleep.
Thank you for existing and telling me, as well. You’re lovely.
The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.
Clive Staples Lewis | Till We Have Faces