sto67

she's the rustling leaves in the springtime breeze that puts my mind at ease- the voice that grants me peace, in knowing that winter is over and the warmth is to return. she's the chicken soup on a chilly morning that warms my heart- the smell and flavour wafting through our home, dreamlike and permeating all this space. she's the song playing in my ears, the quiet lullaby that brings me comfort at night- her presence; music to my ears; the sound of her walking by my side put my fears to rest. she's my favourite book that never gets old, the one that i never tire of reading- the one where the words change meaning as i age, the one that gr

you are like that cloud in the horizon that i saw form from nothing more than blue sky and daylight. it was magic to me; how the air whisked itself into life, its wispy strands coming together knitted tightly and fitting nicely into this picture of you. like snowflakes falling from the sky you are one in a million, one of billions of perfectly structured and arranged designer pieces of nature fashioned this season; you are like no other and that is why i can't take my eyes off you. you give life to my world like a thawing river; flowing, running, ice breaking smaller and softer until it becomes a warmer, smoother, streaming rivulet of ever

i am adrift; an astronaut cut loose from his bindings, searching for that lost attraction that once kept my feet on the ground. i am weightless; inactive and unreactive to the emptiness that surrounds me, morbidly ineffective against this stifling sense of nothing filling my skin. i am hungry; a rabid beast in an empty cage, howling to the blank canvas of space for a slice or sliver of something yours- because it is your gravity that kept me bound to the world; you are Spica to my Virgo, and i long to fall to you again.

it takes just a whisper; the shape of moving lips, the smell of your words and the sibilance of your longing to bring me back to life. i will collect your tears and return each one to you like a lost child coming home again; but we will say nothing when we reunite, only knowing of lifetimes past and futures wanting. it will only take a whisper to bring me near like an autumn wind; the one which takes your love away and sends him back as a memory of a warm body in an empty bed.

he writes me as if each letter was the last in recorded history. like literature would deign to disappear without so much as a wave of goodbye- and i hang off his every word; catlike concentration pawing the loose threads of his conversation. he doesn't speak in rhyme (nor reason sometimes), but his words speak to me louder than a shot of epinephrine and excites me just as well; like it fills my arteries with a longing to share your heartbeat and breathe your air- but then it's gone. like a warm bathroom vapour dispersing out through the open door; the comfort fades and all that's left is the cold condensate dripping

the tiger stalks prey in dragon scales; she's fireproof and invincible- the world will see her beauty: a starving beast in the grass.

a moon coloured breeze brings your dusty memories to luminescence- sounds from starfall and night's end ignite celluloid fragments.