Swell

Everytime I see her, my throat swells.
Her golden blonde hair as it waves in the same cold breeze that bites my skin.
Her sun kissed face, freckled from ear to ear, brittle warm sunrays caress her cheek so lazily, it fills me with envy.
Her oceanic eyes that lock my gaze, that make me think I’m drowning, I’m stuck and in that I relish.
It’s slowly killing me, but it makes my throat swell.

Everytime I hear her, my head swells.
Her words ringing in my ears, replaying them for days after, until it makes my head sting.
Her soft laugh, uncovering her stained teeth, each imperfection filling my stomach with love-starved butterflies.
Her delicate voice, fading out all noticeable noise, luring me like a sirens song, just to string me apart from the inside out.
It’s slowly killing me, but it makes my head swell.

Everytime I daydream of her, my chest swells.
I reminisce on things that have never happened, wondering if she does the same, blurred visions clouding my thoughts.
I fantasise of holding her, as she whispers sweet nothings into my ear, my face flushed red.
I write down words she’ll forever be oblivious to, faded ink on tear-soaked, tea-stained paper.
It’s slowly killing me, but oh, how it makes my chest swell.