I read your words upon words and they consume me of your where-abouts, where you’re going and what I might have missed along the way.
I am intelligently strong, yet around your stories I feel like I am not enough.
I don’t like that.
I am independently strong yet without you I feel weak.
I don’t mind that.
I am have mastered strength in my soul and heart, but because we have not tangibly met, I am frail.
I secretly love this.