Reflection

The way you smile at me makes my pulse skip a beat. My heart swells with feeling, till I feel every inch of me, to my very fingertips, is filled with the sensation of you. And then your hand folds over mine in the simplest of actions, and even after all this time, even after all this passion, this simple act is enough to make me want to wrap myself around you like a vine and never let go.

When you pull me close, everything else fades away. Noise, people, the world around all become a grey blur in the background, and I am a slave to you, lost instantly in the feel of your hand in my hair, lost in the volumes your eyes speak when they move over my face.

I watch you when you are not looking, and you are so beautiful to me. The curve of your cheek, your jawline, the way your eyes crinkle in laughter or in thought. I think I could go blind and forget colour, yet remember the way your knowing smile spreads across your face when you make me blush.

When Catherine spoke of Heathcliff, she said, "He is more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same." It makes me think our differences are part of the magic - that two so entirely different people can be so like each other, can know each other so well. You match my edges to your own as though we are the same piece carved from the same puzzle, yet we belong to entirely different parts of the picture.

People say the danger of falling in love is losing yourself. But you reveal myself to me every time I look at my reflection in your eyes.