As if I’ve traveled, like I’m there, only better because it’s your voice I hear coming from so close by my ear, so confident, so eager to see, touch, be part of new and exciting things…that’s you, my eyes into a world in motion. I may be marooned, but I’m touched by what you share, like you want me there, lol.

Idealistically:

Why does he affect me with such lucidity? Why does picturing his face draw my hand to my chest as if to touch his hand inside holding my heart afloat?

Reality:

I always check myself at night before I indulge again, “He doesn’t know you exist, be satisfied by him allowing you to keep escaping with his images!”

A brain’s heart so touched it can’t help but burn with bursts of love.