Today is New Year's. Another year with a terminal illness isn't new, but it would certainly be a lot nicer if I could pick you up and watch you smile while we dance as best we can. I may need a wheelchair but it'll be just like Footloose. Well, it'll even be literal because my feet are a little loose. Remember that one time we were sharing the bed and you tried playing footsy with me and one leg of mine ended up on the floor and you had to pick it up? Good times.

People always ask what your New Year's Resolution is, and mine is to one day drag my bum legs over to your cot, lay down with you, and kiss you right on the lips. Those lips that make mountains out of the dirt in my chest and tame fire to become a flame that can just as easily warm your heart as engulf you utterly. I want you. You with the voice that's empty but full and the eyes that say more than your vocal cords could ever allow.

I love you. I haven't said it yet but I do. I haven't found the right words for it yet. "I love you" seems too forced, too normal. For someone as beautiful and amazing as you, you deserve something better, something extraordinary. Something that tells you how much I want to hold your hand when you're scared and drag you away from everything, take you to somewhere else. Somewhere unnatural, where we're not supposed to be. 

Just imagine us. Not our bodies, the broken ones. I'll find us better ones, ones that work as well as our hearts. I will sculpt you volcanoes from earthquakes in my heart and I will stare at you while you shed every thing everyone has tacked on to you. Do you know how it will be when we're finally alone? No chance of ever being found? We can sleep whenever we want, live off of each other and pray that the clouds give us rain to match with the sad times we may come across. But they will be our sad times. No one else's. 

That's what I want to say to you, and I can't. So I stare, and I write while I try and move my legs under this stupid blanket. I know you feel it, I see your soft little smile when you watch me. Maybe I'm just hopeful. I'd rather be hopeful over you than able to see the truth in anything else.