There have been times in my life in which I felt mad, an unavoidable madness from the silence that had but a moment ago felt a comfortable coat about me but now became a deafening yet muting hum, equally even more maddeningly inescapable.
It's been noticeably absent since you, my love. My madness of solitude has become a state of being madly in love with you, only you, and wanting your every day to be healthy, happy, wealthy, peaceful, exciting, and on your terms, especially after a lifetime of living within the confines and demands of everyone else's terms.
You are the Everything, and I feel like I'll burst when I hold you in my arms, when I caress your skin with my hands, as I hope I'm touching your soul and caressing your tension into tranquility and a reality that everything you've ever wanted to have and be has knowingly been inside you but I have the honor of being with you to understand and help you bring it forth.
I look into your eyes and see you looking back at me. I know that when that happens, I'm experiencing the better part of that moment. I've always known who I am, and all I ever want is to be with you.