If I Could Describe Love This Well..

The Title is "too long" to post so,:

If I Could Describe Love This Well, How Do You Think My Heart Feels?

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Once a song gets stuck in your head and it vibrates your lungs, it causes your heart to feel a shudder.
That's nearly love, but love's more like this:

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The lungs you use to exhale with
Suddenly,
Forget,

To oscillate and you nearly choke, as your very heart quickly shutters and stops for that moment in time when they are looking you dead in the eyes, saying what their heart feels,

But their vocal chords do not have the nerves to say.
That's the skipping heartbeat that most lovers speak about.

As your senses quite briefly come across the cologne they used to wear
And your stomach nearly convulses at the prospect
of a millisecond of a memory, where the lungs you use forget to inhale and you nearly choke, and the heartbeat that keeps blood rushing to your brain stops beating to grasp - to grasp what? -
... to grasp this moment in time where the world actually did pause as two hopeless romantics attempted - and succeeded, if only for a few moments - to hold the purest of love in their arms
And then the darkness came and tore them apart, as the hope of tomorrow faded into today:

You can only live for today, because tomorrow never is never promised.

Yet still,
He was close and the breath you had saved for this very moment, had prepared for and completed cartwheels in anticipation for the moment that the two halves collide once again, as the universe holds off and the breath all rushes out, due way too many factors:

Like always you're left breathless in his arms and you're not even there yet - these are just the memories that consume you, when you allow them and suddenly:

The lungs forget to exhale and your heart stops for a moment,

As the reminder of his cologne - the first and last thing left in every memory, because it always greeted you and said goodbye, even if he didn't - nearly chokes you and starts the forgetting to inhale and exhale and forgets to tell the heart to beat, because the brain has lost too much blood, because you're not breathing, and that's when your stomach goes into convulsions:

It's as you lay into their molecules, dissolving all of the day's problems into : "Oh, it's no matter, because I'm home."

And just as the feeling of the empty calm overflows your thoughts, reminding you that you were home, when the atoms of both our bodies, hearts, minds, and souls, vibrated into exactly the same position
And the inevitable shift of galaxies as the two halves of a whole soul fuse together.
It's how my breath escapes me and my heart loses control of its duties,

As my brain lacks oxygen and blood,
And I nearly pass out.
My hands shaking as I write this
And the feeling that I'm here, I'm here again
But, you're not.
Where are you?
It's how I can write this when I let the subconscious memories into my conscious, waking memory,
But the moment I try to release the information on paper, when not thinking with my heart, but my logical conscious,

My words fail me.
Love isn't about thinking it through;
All loves about is feeling; we cannot see anything, but the black -
But is it even black, if we're blind (does it even matter what color we're engulfed in)?
All that matters is you'll hear my breathing, off in the distance.

If I can see where you're standing against the horizon, but cannot make out any more details then the outline of your imprint you left on the sun (certainly much like the one you left on my soul, yet mine's permenant), then you can certainly see my breath the chill in my bones have had,
Ever since the last time I smelt your cologne as you said goodbye,

And my heartbeat stopped, forgetting to send blood to my brain, and I nearly choke as my lungs forget to exhale, because even all the moments of preparations, dreaming, or forgetting and trying to recover,

Drown in the knowledge of inevitable shift of galaxies as the two halves of a whole soul fuse together.
And how my breath escapes me and my heart loses control of its duties,
As my brain lacks oxygen and blood,
And I nearly pass out.
As my hands are shaking as I write this
And the feeling that I'm here, I'm here.
But, you're not.
...Where are you?

But, who would ask me? I could only count to two in this category of love, the last better than the first; sweeter than the first, because you'd been deprived of the fluttering of the hearts and the choking of the lungs, but this time -
It was so much worse.

And suddenly the atoms shift together and - shit! We're going down! - You fight it and run as the atoms, at the moment in time, align just perfectly and you are in, and I am in.
And here we are, two souls forgetting that love isn't about thinking it through.

It's about is feeling our way through;
We cannot see anything, but the black - but is it even black, if we're blind (does it even matter what color we're engulfed in)? - yet during the memories we both visit, we feel the same two hearts beating as one in the darkness of whatever color, because the color doesn't matter,

And I just sit here, with my eyes closed
And the darkness close
Knowing if lips are allowed into the conversation,
We wouldn't be talking.
And I breathe again, letting myself forget,
And, a heavy sigh as: "I'm back, Reality."