And I wonder sometimes
where you are and
what you are doing.
If you ever think about
all that was, and all
that has been.
Your clothes on my bedroom floor,
the barricaded door,
your eyes locked in mine.
The soothing silence,
like a warm blanket,
conveying between us
what words never could.
Our heads resting on pillows,
my hand catching a lock of your hair,
as your wedding ring lay dormant
upon the wooden nightstand.
And I remember
all your special places that,
when touched right,
assured me of a long hot night,
breaking said silence,
with gentle sighs,
and passionate groans,
sweat dripping from our pores,
as our bodies became one,
as did our souls.
And I remember
the slither of morning light
that awoke us
through the cracks
of thrift shop curtains,
little particles of dust
caught in its rays.
Oh, how I remember
first light kisses,
morning caresses,
and, afterwards,
your body covering
half of mine,
the gentle stroking
of your forehead
and the sweet scent
of your skin.
And in between
these moments,
I remember a dream
of never-ending happiness
that turned out to be
just what that was.

I believe in us.
Slow dancing in the pouring rain,
our inner ears tuned to the silent music
that resonates between our hearts.

I believe in us.
These powerful feelings of belonging
that are sparked even by the mere
touching of our hands.

I believe in us.
The laughter in our eyes and on our lips
as we convey through touch, those words
that had best remain unspoken.
Not because they are
anything less than magnificent,
like the light that shines through us,
but because words can never be equal
to the joining of our souls.

She came to me again today.
When the light changed and shifted its hue
I sensed her presence and no matter
where I would go or what I would do,
I felt her hand in mine and smelled
the fragrance of her skins perfume,
like the flowers in the warmth of eve
somewhere at the end of June.

And perhaps it was in my dreams,
where I know I have met her before,
I kissed her a thousand times
and a thousand times more,
for the all familiar flavour of her lips
I could taste upon my own
as I slowly traced my fingertips
along the sunbeam that had shown
the outline of her perfect face.

But when I blinked, she scattered.
Stardust, to be gone without a trace.
I could feel her breast against mine
as I tried to hold her in sweet embrace.
I breathed her and it filled me with such warmth,
that turned into love and nearly tore me apart
for she was tearing through my veins
to live forever in my heart.

I wish that you shall
find yourself again
and remember me, when
you find a way to piece together
all the fragments of broken promises
and shattered dreams
that made up who you used to be.
I hope we can restore
that which was lost;
the friendship, the love, the trust,
for we are but strangers now.
And I pray, that you shall
find me somehow, someday
and that I, in turn
will find myself again.

For I am lost without you.

Sometimes I just wish
that I could disappear.
Sit in the dark for a while
and gently dissolve into thin air.
Turn off this endless stream,
and wake into a dream,
of love and eternal peace.
Sometimes I just wish
that I could disappear.
Erase my presence,
and all the evidence
of me ever having been here.

How can I not compare
to the light of the setting summer sun,
the colour of your golden hair
and the warmth of your lovely smile,
that make it seem cold and dim?

And how can I not feel like drowning
in the splendour of your byzantine eyes,
when the depths of the clearest oceans
and the endless blue of skies,
seem shallow and pale in comparison?

And how can I not want to stray
in that complex maze of your mind
when, all along the winding way,
there are so many  views to find
that simply take my breath away?

And how can I not hope to be
the cause for that lovely smile,
when it seems so obvious to me
that living life is more worthwhile
if I can share it with you?

Ik druk mijn lippen op jouw naam,
sierlijk op een enveloppe geschreven,
fragmenten van herinneringen,
in een brief die ik je nooit heb gegeven.

Weet je nog *** wij de eerste keer liepen,
door die oude hoofdstad van ons land?
Door de straten zwervend, lachend,
jouw koude in mijn warme hand.

En weet je nog de kleurigste herfst,
wandelend door het bos bij de duinen,
met jouw dochter die vol bewondering
naar paddenstoelen liep te struinen?

En weet je nog die hoogste schommel,
die bijna reikte tot de maan
waarop ik jou steeds hoger duwde,
omdat ik nog niet weg wilde gaan?

En weet je nog *** wij samen,
slenterend door winkels van ingebonden papier,
intiem pratend, de wereld negerend,
jij mijn hand pakte en zei “hier”?;
“Voel *** wij uit alle macht
hetzelfde dansen op het ritme van dit leven”
en *** ik toen ter plekke bedacht
dat ik jou mijn wereld wilde geven.

En weet je nog, toen het tij
zich tegen ons begon te keren
en wij nog dachten dat wij samen
de storm wel zouden kunnen trotseren,
*** ons roerloze schip
tezamen met mijn wereld is vergaan,
toen de golven van emoties
het tegen de rotsen hebben doen slaan?

En heb je het nog gehoord dat ik zoekend,
tussen het wrakhout in de koude oceaan,
jouw naam heb geroepen tot ik,
schor en half in verdriet verdronken,
maar aan land ben gegaan?

En heb je het geweten dat ik dolend,
over bospaden en de straten van die oude stad,
gezocht heb naar sporen van jou,
niet wetende of je aan mij dacht of dat je mij vergat?

Maar wat je niet hebt kunnen weten
en waarschijnlijk ook niet meer ziet
is dat ik nooit heb kunnen vullen,
de leegte die je achter liet.

Ik druk mijn lippen op jouw naam,
sierlijk op een enveloppe geschreven,
fragmenten van herinneringen,
in een brief die ik je nooit heb gegeven