Love Drunk Eyes
by @manuel78 on Manuel
View my bio on Blurt.media: https://blurt.media/c/manuel78 
lyrics by me plus lyric generator
story based off lyrics below
- love drunk eyes lyrics
Intro:
Intro Layer:
you are my love
you are my life
you make it worth opening my eyes
every single day that i see you
my smile grows larger
and i'm happy too
it's because of you
the one i love
the reason i smile when no one else can
you're the only one who affects me like this
they stare and wonder—
what the hell is this?
honey, i love you
there's no one else
who i'd rather lay next to, day after day
even though you're crazy
my heart’s crazy for you
on my mind from morning till bed
no other thought running through my head
it's only you
no room for anything else
blinded by love
with my love drunk eyes
staring back at you
i see you inside
dancing and singing
laying all there, smiling back at me
waving at me
doing your own thing
while i daydream of you
wish you were here
right by my side
[Bridge:
(we're floating slow in a silent rhythm)
(my soul sways to your reflection in the dim light)
(i feel your breath through the echo of space)
(soft fire, silent rush, you're the only chase)
[Chorus:
you are my love, you are my life
my every morning, my calm at night
you light the dark, make wrong feel right
i’m drawn to you like stars to sky
[Break:
(oh, you're still dancing, still glowing)
(even when i'm frozen, you're in motion)
(while the world fades, your light keeps showing)
(you, only you, my quiet explosion)
[Final Chorus:
you are my love, you are my life
my reason to breathe, my reason to fight
you're the rhythm inside, the softest high
with you, with you — i'm always right
Outro:
you make it worth opening my eyes
every single day
- The Quiet Explosion
The alarm was a soft chime, not a blare. Leo stirred, the first conscious sensation the warmth where Mara’s back pressed against his, the rhythm of her breathing a gentle tide in the quiet room. He didn't open his eyes yet. Instead, he let the truth of the morning settle into him, the same way it did every morning.
You are my love. It wasn't a grand declaration, just the first fact of the day, as real and present as the dawn light beginning to paint the blinds in stripes of gold.
You are my life.Not in a possessive or desperate way, but in a foundational one. She was the context, the atmosphere in which his life occurred.
You make it worth opening my eyes.There had been times, before her, when the morning was just another shift to be endured. Now, it was an unveiling. He opened his eyes.
She was still asleep, a faint crease between her brows, her hair a dark fan across her pillow. A smile touched his lips, unbidden, effortless. Every single day that I see you, my smile grows larger, and I'm happy too. It was a quiet, continuous expansion of joy. It's because of you.
She was, he knew, the one I love, the reason I smile when no one else can. In a stressful week, in a crowded room full of empty chatter, the memory of her laugh, or the anticipation of seeing her, could cut through the grey like a sunbeam. He’d catch himself grinning at his phone over a silly text she’d sent hours before, oblivious to the curious stares around him. You're the only one who affects me like this. They stare and wonder—what the hell is this? He could almost hear the internal questions of colleagues or distant acquaintances: What's he so happy about? The answer was simple, and he’d whisper it to himself, a secret he carried with him everywhere. Honey, I love you.
He watched her sleep, this woman who was his home. There's no one else who I'd rather lay next to, day after day. The simple intimacy of shared sleep, of knowing another person’s sleeping sounds and rhythms, was a luxury he never took for granted. Even though you're crazy, he thought with a fond ache. Her 'crazy' was the glorious, unpredictable chaos that made her her—the sudden, passionate obsession with learning to bake sourdough at 11 PM, the intense, tearful outrage over a fictional character's fate, the way she could talk to squirrels in the park as if they were old friends. My heart’s crazy for you. His own brand of madness was this: a complete, unwavering fixation. On my mind from morning till bed, no other thought running through my head. It's only you. No room for anything else.
Later, as they moved through their Saturday morning ritual—her dancing absently to a song in her head while scrambling eggs, him leaning against the counter, coffee cooling in his hand—he felt it. Blinded by love, with my love drunk eyes, staring back at you. It was a pleasant intoxication. The world around her blurred at the edges; she was in perfect, beautiful focus. I see you inside. Past the morning hair and the old t-shirt, he saw her fierce intelligence, her boundless empathy, the wild garden of her imagination.
She spun with the spatula, singing a nonsense tune, catching his gaze. Dancing and singing, laying all there, smiling back at me, waving at me, doing your own thing. She wasn't performing for him; she was simply, joyfully, being herself in his presence. It was the greatest gift.
And even now, with her right there, while I daydream of you, wish you were here, right by my side. It was a paradox of deep love—the person could be inches away, and you'd still miss them, because you were already missing the future moment when they might step into another room.
They cleaned up breakfast in a companionable silence that was anything but empty. It was a shared space, thick with understanding. In these moments, he felt they were floating slow in a silent rhythm. No words were needed. Their movements synced—her handing him a wet plate, him taking it to dry—a gentle, wordless dance. My soul sways to your reflection in the dim light. He saw her reflected in the dark window, a ghost over the city, and his very essence felt calm, attuned. Standing at the sink, he could feel the subtle shift in the air when she passed behind him. I feel your breath through the echo of space. It was a hyper-awareness, a connection that lived in the quiet between heartbeats. What he felt for her was a soft fire, silent rush, you're the only chase. There was no frantic pursuit, only a steady, warm glow and the quiet thrill of knowing he got to love her, today and tomorrow.
The feeling crystallized into a clear, steady chorus in his heart, a truth he could have sung if he were the singing type.
You are my love, you are my life. The twin pillars.
My every morning, my calm at night.The alpha and the omega of his day.
You light the dark, make wrong feel right.She didn't solve his problems, but she made bearing them feel possible, even meaningful.
I’m drawn to you like stars to sky .It was a natural law, as inevitable as gravity.
She flopped onto the sofa with a book, curling into the corner. He sat nearby, pretending to read a magazine. He watched her over the top of the page. She was utterly absorbed, biting her lip in concentration, then a slow smile as she read something delightful. Oh, you're still dancing, still glowing. Her energy was internal now, a dance of the mind, but the light of it was the same. Even when I'm frozen, you're in motion. He could sit there, still and content, forever, just watching the live wire of her spirit. While the world fades, your light keeps showing. The news, the noise, the distant anxieties—they all receded into a background hum. She was the signal. You, only you, my quiet explosion. That’s what it was. Not a noisy, destructive blast, but a silent, powerful expansion within him—his capacity for joy, for peace, for wonder, all detonated gently and permanently by her presence.
The chorus returned, fuller now, deepened by the quiet hours of just being together.
You are my love, you are my life.
My reason to breathe, my reason to fight. To be better, to build a world worthy of her.
You're the rhythm inside, the softest high.The constant, reassuring beat underlying everything, and the most gentle, sustaining euphoria.
With you, with you — I'm always right.Not in arguments, but in life. With her, he was in the right place, on the right path, being the right version of himself.
The afternoon waned. She dozed off, the book slipping to her chest. Leo watched the rise and fall of her breathing, the evening light gilding her profile. The epic feelings of the day settled into a profound, quiet gratitude.
The final thought, as he reached to pull a blanket over her, was the same one he’d started with, but richer, proven by another day of her.
You make it worth opening my eyes.
Every single day.