Declaration of a poet

What can I say that you don't already know?

Maybe I could start by reminding you of that ease you have to make me smile, how you coasted within me so deep, so internal. That the future despairs me, it stifles me not knowing if you will be from here on ... its crazy, right? Maybe not, the cliché of "Romeo y Juliet" happened in a couple of days and its considered the purest love.
But you, with your kisses that elevate me and those arms in which I feel so comfortable, you feel like that "heel of Achilles" that I swore to have no more ... and look at yourself here. Making me think about crazy things before time, making me want to do them, without waiting, without reconsidering, just exploring this immense desire to travel, to learn every inch of your skin as if it were mine, every spot, every corner, every breath. In this, I have become a bundle of extrasensory nerves when I am by your side. But how does one cover the sun with a finger? Or do you avoid the inevitable? Even though I wasn't looking for you, you were like a spectacular fall, because that's how I felt when I kissed you, surrendered to you, to what I knew you could cause me.