The most beautiful part, you ask? A door stands forever open, welcoming an exit. Yet, here we stand, nose to nose. The most beautiful part? Choice. And we choose one another, without locks, or keys.
True love
A love like this.
I want to plan a million days with you,
and blindly venture
into a million nights.
If the end is before us
I wish only to spend my last breaths kissing the corners of his arched mouth, admiring the smile I helped place there.
Disappointments and doubts grow like cancer in the heart of a woman so hopelessly in love. Setting fire to the bed sheets as a frail attempt to feel the flame. Can one have love without madness? Can this love grow so great without the lining of her fear? Or is it the madness and fear that come like cool rain, dampening the sparks and turning ash of their flame.
Reassurance is a heart breaking desire in a love so strong.
Suddenly there is appeal in sleeping until noon.
Sadness for a loss.
The most bitter sweet good bye in the arms of an almost stranger. It had been years since we last laughed together. Now the smile will fade as flesh falls from bone. Your mischievous baby blues will forever dance in my heart. And as the pink rises in my cheeks, I’ll feel your fingers there - wet with tears. Those arms of an almost stranger held me too dearly too near the end.
Love
the dying art & growing sport.
