Warmth: Another Terribly Blunt Dedication

I've turned to prose because frankly, I've run out of poetry about you. This is no longer a string of almost rhyming thoughts about that electrifying overpowering passion or the typical drenched in a sea of regret, and the guest starring of tears. This is a prose. This is an open letter, that I wouldn't be able to send you. As the words flow, I am bombarded by thoughts of people - that aren't you but I choose to brush them off. This is real, this isn't an out of word magical experience or a storyline that would've been on the list of my favorite rom-coms. Still, this is about you - this is about, real. This is about how there's is no cold, just an absence of warmth. And quite honestly, you are warmth. Not a pit of fire or even an overwhelming spark, but comfortable warmth & it's dawning on me now - that this, is probably just what I need.