Ain't no other woman that could take your place my love

It was yet another routine patrol out on the Straits... Near the Rock... Nightfall, the sun sets behind me and the salty breeze pushes ruffles my hair into a mess as I stand out on the port bridge wing. It's a Saturday, I'll be heading home tomorrow where I'll get to see her. Get to touch her, get to hold her, get to kiss her, to caress and to feel her. I can't wait. That's just a figure of speech isn't it... I will because I can't do anything else but. I think that's enough breeze for now.

I return to my seat, I'm lucky Danny's with me on the watch. He's always been a good friend when it came down to advice and a good sport when it comes to my jokes and a dead-on whiz with the radar. I don't realise it until he tells me, "Sir, you're so in love."

"How can you tell?" I exclaim, surprise inherent in the tone of my voice.

"You don't realise that you've been singing that love song for the longest time?" says Danny, grinning from ear to ear. He has a Jack Nicholson grin that I bet girls find irresistible.

I pause in my thoughts and I look at him, he nods and smiles knowingly. Try as I might, I can't help laughing, that I've really found someone who's willing to give as much as I want to, someone with the same hunger for passion as I, with the same lust for life and love that hungers and claws out for more. And it's not scary, this insatiability, this... craving. Because each time I'm with her, it calms me down just to lie next to her, to hold her and to be in her arms.

Her eyes are like opals, shiny and glistening with tear swept blinks, they betray her emotions each time I look into them. I can't wait, to be drawn into her gaze and drift away into our own world. A world where exists my love emanating from within onto her.

Without a doubt, without regrets, without wanton, without a care.

I love you.


Watching: --

Listening: My Love - Justin Timberlake/futuresexlovesounds
"Ain't no other woman that could take your spot my love."

Reading: Flowers For Algernon
The anger of knowing, the loss of childlike happiness, a descent into the thralls of adulthood. I curse that I never read this earlier.