As in all ends, I find myself accompanied by the soul and mind.

Their voices are the notes to my paper and the lyrics to my song.

In an ironic sort of manner, the die hard romantic sits quietly alone.

The one always looking in the depths, wondering where their one lies.

I’ll reach, but only to a fingers tip do I arrive.

After so many years, I can’t even remember the feeling of you next to me.

I used to be able to close my eyes and be there, if only for a moment.

I suppose the wind of winter days takes with it the comfort of your embrace.

Remnants of love float through the fresh morning air as I smile towards the summer sun.

No longer do we run through the forests like in our youth, the cool air flowing through my long brown hair, your smile bringing me all the warmth I ever needed.

And yet, the years fly by.

Oh how they fly.

Our wrinkles deepen, and our souls weakin.

Yet, we smile in remniscence.

We’ll always be the hopeless romantics sitting quietly alone wondering where our one lies.

I miss you.

The petite couple of birds sing a tune of hurry to the room of redemption, before these years pass, and this skin wilts.

Looking into the eyes of a friend, the sudden dawning of pointless direction alludes her.

The mind takes her on a stroll of the so-called memory lane.

” You’re beautiful ” – James Blunt.

” Goodbye, my lover ” – James Blunt.

”  Hey There Delilah ” – Plain White T’s.

They walked through the forest one afternoon. A beautiful branch in arch form, created by nature itself.

The sun set, and his lips upon hers, he sent her on her way, into the world.

Rejection, a sweet gift premiered at an early age.

She adored, but mutual, it was not.

And then, another song began, a song that lasted days upon days.

A song that repeated throughout the years, at times, skipping a beat or two.

Sharing dreams, love existed, for a short time, it made its presence, if only, briefly.

Perhaps the length of daily routine ruined it, perhaps it was not meant to be, perhaps many souls search for love in all the wrong places.

Escaping the lie she kept locked away safe, finally, the lie was no more.

It was as if the soul had been in an extended slumber.

Although the circumstances were of extreme hypocrisy, they were meant to be.

Too many coincidences made it the most beautiful deceit known to man.

A desire so great, kilometers were traveled just for an epic embrace.

She lived in those few hours more than she had in all previous years.

Destiny would have it that distance would separate them for what seemed an eternity.

The irony of finding love in short term circumstance bewildered her soul constantly.

Natural fears rose, it would not last, he would move on, and her soul would once again break like a glass box.

She still hopes, although reality scares her, she still hopes.

Natural instinct intertwined with passionate feelings of attachment and the need, desire, and utter desperation of not seeing life without someone are quite lovely experiences.

“There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it’s time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.”

“Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?
‘Cause I saw the end before we’d begun,
Yes, I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.”

“Hey there Delilah
Don’t you worry about the distance
I’m right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice, it’s my disguise
I’m by your side”

The melody continues, and as the life deepens, and the feelings progress, onward
does the melody sing its tune.

Her dress spins lightly across the kitchen, humming softly, she drops a trickle of salt into the pan.

Her shirt is a 1970′s beauty. Colorful, light dances upon the silk pink of her cheeks.

A smile is such a joy when it is accompanied with the thought of someone close, dear, loved.

The hum flows to his ears and to his heart strings.

As a butterfly on a freshly rained leaf, he lays back and savors the voice of his beauty, his joy,
his sweetness.

Her sweetness could send him into a diabetic disease.

His intelligence finds her each and every time, true to admire, she can never get enough of him.

Does the rest around them matter? Oh but no, it does not.

Indeed, it does not.

She ruffles over to him, kisses his nose quickly, and runs away giggling girlishly.

Its these little things that she does that make him superbly adore her every particle.

She is the epitome of all his needs and wants.

Perfection wrapped in so many layers it is impossible to complete in one life.

They complete each other, she is like the melt to his chocolate.

The sharp to his cut, and the swipe to his slide.

She sways her hair back and forth, sunlight touching but only the tips of her brown hair, further detailing the pure excellence in which it sits.

His hands comes up her neck as she turns, her eyes glistening in front of him, she giggles and says
“you smell like tapioca pudding, dear”

Continuing to giggle, she continues preparing dinner with a slight dance in her walk.

He simply adores her.

Simply adores. 

He was never the kind to fall in love, to be completely crazy about a woman, but with her,
it is different. She is different.

She can be so fun, yet so sexy in the same time.

He gets in the car, he will go and make up with her, three days without her has seemed
like an eternity.

Italian love songs can be heard from her windows, he knocks, no answer.

He calls, she answers, her nose sniffling.

Him: Do you feel like opening the door? I am kind of in front of it and it won’t open.

Her: Oh, um, alright, but I look like crap, um, oh well.

Him: I am sure you look fine, just move your butt over here and open the door.

The door moves and her dark eyes reveal a hard couple days.

He can see she has been crying, but she crys alot, so maybe it wasn’t for him.

She jumps in his arms and hugs him so very tight it hurts his rib cage, she could not help it, although she is very stubborn, she has been dreaming of feeling him next to her for so long.

Their love is not the perfect kind, the one where they know they will make it, it is not destined.

But they feel something so strong, when apart, all they think about is each other.

She wonders if this is the right kind of love, the passionate extremely jealous never wanting to be far from one and other kind of love.

Most stories of this love end in tragedy, one will do anything for another, and whether it be nature or god’s wrath, something bad always happens.

Yet the soft touch of his hands upon her arms melts her into tiny little pieces.

The way she raises her eyes at him he can feel something so grand, so poetic, that it makes him fall in love with her time and time again.

A love so powerful, yet so very dangerous.

Take me away my love.

Thoughts, feelings, fears.

She misses his mouth,eyes,face.

Is love blind?

Perhaps.

Staring out the window, she hopes he will come up behind her, hold her, kiss her soft skin.

That does not happen.

What is he doing now?

Is he thinking of her?

Is he touching another?

Italian love songs in the background, tender sighs, and dreadful whys.

Depicted nonsense, and makeshift love signs.

Unheard to the deaf, and seen by the mute.

Careful selection, and untold deception.

Ti amo?

Je t’aime?

Te quiero?

Words.

Only words.

The mouth can give thousands of words, but only one true feeling.

To tell a story, to give an image, a gift, a refused exhale, you wonder through these fields as if unfound.

Come back to me my love.

Come back.

Empty without you, caress, tender, scream.

Art, Fate, Life.

You are the paint to my canvas, the water to my river, the leaf to my branch.

Soul?

Body?

Infinite.

Accept this, accept us.

Hold your head up high, you are the pride of my beating heart, the reason for my strive, the understanding of my being.

In open arms, accept this.

Accept us.