Infatuation simply made you appear as a personification of love.  Maybe it was your skin. How lovely it was to touch your very being.How incredibly fixated I was at the feeling of my fingertips simply caressing your very presence.It was as if I were physically trying to understand your essence, by grazing upon the scars and stubble that formed on the surface of your subtle skin.  How those imperfections, for you, were just reminders of an execrable past. But for me. It was different. As if I were a blind man, trying to read you like his favorite poem in braille, only focused on the figurative speech that exemplified love as a uncontrollable feeling that only he could imagine from the organized cells that were emphasized on the blank sheet of paper.I searched for more than just pleasure with you. I wanted to know you.  Between the crevice of your personal hell and your righteous paradise.I wanted to fall deep within your ocean of insecurities and drown myself in the essence of your existence because I...... I, wanted you to understand that there was more to me than this. That I am a person who will go the distance as to neglecting my fears of swimming, to be in the honest depths of your soul. And yes, Ive become so unbelievably inconsiderate of your privacy because I've been so blinded by this little thing called "love".  -c.k