There is No Floor Here

I want to be possessive of you.
Reminding you how much I want you,
in my life,
and in my space.

There is a desperation to cry out:

"YOU ARE MINE."

"You are mine."



Picture the life I see for us,
see it the same way I do.

Long car rides,
holding your hand,
sun-coated mornings,
quiet evenings.

It's a little mundane,
I know.
Yet it's all I want in the world.


You.


With me.


And each scene plays over in my head,
pushing me through the day.

I'm not sure about the word love,
but I know that
every thought with you,
is bathed in a warm yellow-orange glow.