Limerence

In all my 16 insignificant/ unworthy years on Earth, never have I once encountered this unusual assembly of unassuming syllabi.

'Leem- mer- rence'

Feel it rolling off my tongue, each sound cradled cautiously then, thrown out like an unwanted lover.

What does it mean anyway?

I repeat the word and my mind flashes to the ever slight curvature of her cheekbones, the tiny crevices concealed (more of imprinted) (or perhaps lightly kissed) on the crescent of her face...

Oh, she was born amongst the stars. Christened by their effulgence, Rosemary was one of a kind. She belonged to the Milky Way, those distant celestial bodies, securing her to a completely 'out-of-this-world' peculiar framework of a girl.

'Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.'

Oh, how I wonder how you are? I am detrimental, and undeserving no doubt. I am a blade of grass, treacherous in strength of character, (not sly, but weak) easily swayed by the unforgiving winds of yearning. Yearning for who? But of course that diamond in the sky.

And yet.

Yet.

I am invincible in your presence. I am 'the King of the world' in that instant/moment when:

1. your tragic soulful eyes penetrate my heart. My impoverished deplorable heart. (What is a heart anyway?)
2. my neck tingles when I feel the magnificent scent of her wafting down like petals, slowly settling.
3. i linger upon the pauses in our inconsequential conversations. In the gaps between words, I sense the underlying ache, (I am not shallow) and in the deliberation of your breath, I understand all the brokenness that you are, in the halts of your voice, I relish/ revel in your silence, while my practicality curses my heart for this one-sided affection. 

Is this it? A fatal attraction, an overwhelming obsession with distasteful direction? She is a thing of beauty, stardust trails behind, tracing her peregrinate across my trampled defeated heart.

Recalcitrant, I refuse to back down.

Infatuation< Limerence< Love 

The equation of my life.

'Leem- mer- rence'

The word tastes bitter and bites my tongue, each lilt a reminder of Rosemary's pulchritude in all the facets of my obsequious passion. Between the dust of lust and love, I am no longer sane. 

How lamentable is the word Limerence.

'Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are.'