Run Upstairs

I'm sorry,

But I want him to run upstairs,

With his pretty eyes,

Heart-slicing smile,

And warmth radiating through every atom of his body,

And come towards me,

Fast but in slow-motion,

Exactly like how they show in the movies,

But even more magical than that,

And hug me, really tight,

But softly too,

Holding me just so perfectly,

As we find comfort in the unknown curves of our bodies,

Then staring straight into my eyes,

As if trying to read everything that I'm thinking,

And simply understanding it all,

Then ever so leisurely,

Pecking my forehead,

His hands holding my face,

Memorizing it with only touch,

And his sharp eyes,

Photographing this moment,

Not believing this is really happening,

And smiling knowing that we both are thinking the same thing,

This hasn't happened before,

And this isn't going to happen again,

Like this,

This magically,

This dreamily.

I'm sorry,

But I really want this to happen really.