I find myself tugging on an akai ito and discovering, that either through my reluctance or its insistence, its measure endures endlessly. So I turn to Aoide, seeking to ease my mind.

     Everyday the thought of you still grasps my heart
          and will not release me.
     I am constantly searching for some sort of lyrical amnesia
          to ease this wanting.
     But each note, whether sad or sweet,
     Resonates with a hope born an eternity ago,
          for you to be endlessly entangled with my soul.

And yet again, I still ... everything.

I need to release the who and why of my cause and fully immerse myself in the Lethe, lest I risk rambling recklessly down wrong roads. Unbroken activity and exertion act as anesthetics in almost all instances. But it is those quiet moments of seclusion that the sense of her hits hammer hard.

     My heart is haunted by ghosts of you everywhere I turn;
          The sense of you is still the backdrop to my world.
     I can almost touch you in the empty spaces around me;
          The sense of you is a palpable presence in my life.
     Even with everything I have, even with everything I know;
          The sense of you is still a sense of completeness.

Seasons change and winter for my heart is on the horizon. Entanglements ensnare and crisp breezes burn to chill winds carrying her heart to another. I find myself ellipsing through angst and ache, profanity and pensiveness, anger and outrage, longing and loathing, recognition and regret.

     As I grow accustomed to the lengthening nights of discouraging
                                                         dark
                                              to the cruel chill of absent air
     You re-enter my life, Whirlwind,
                                              beautifully baffling my seasons of
                                                         sentiment
     An unnatural spring of hope withing the solstice of solitude
                                              for which I prepared
     How do I resist such a heavenly attraction, when all I wanted to
     be is the man who won your affection?

Autumn is in the air and my memories are reeling during this, my
     favorite season.
I am overwhelmed by the vibrant patchwork woven together
     from my images of you.
          Each ruby red reminds me of your laughing lips.
          Muted oranges trigger tremendous thoughts of warmth
                     in your welcome.
          Golds brilliantly blaze with the fire of your encaptivating eyes.
               Rich browns swirl 'round as the creamy coffee of our
                     conversations.
          And,
               Gleaming, glistening, glowing greens are an everlasting
                     testimony to the life knowing you had renewed in me.
I was mistaken. You are my favorite season.