Craziness

I woke up this morning pretending that although you are somewhere else in the world, you were dreaming of me. I hate to admit to myself that I am attached to you--how could I possibly be, we haven't met--but I read you and I saw you and I feel like I don't want to read anything else.

It is crazy, to be smitten to feel like you weigh on me as heavily as you've been weighing on me now; and I need to calm my nerves and walk this earth with utmost care not to scare you, but I am scared. I am scared of you. I am scared to frighten you. I am afraid I will never know more--when I want to know more.

If it's even possible, I think you're a missing piece.

Perhaps, you're even the jagged edge that I would dare fit into my perforated body. I want to claim you, claim me.