Things that were not supposed to happen,
have happened.

And things that were supposed to,
have not.

And indeed,
such is the way of this world.

How could I have possibly fallen into love once again, after trying so hard not to?
The fact that I've done this before only strengthens the confusion and anger I feel growing within.
Yet here I am... Telling whispered gossips of nothing to no one.
At this point, I'm more in wonder with my own inability to function, than I am with her smile and her eyes.
I admit that I had once thought myself to be moving slowly, but now I dare not go in any direction, for fear of acting out the history I once so eagerly committed.

I tell you...

I love your laugh,
and the twinkle in your eyes.

I love your hips,
and the way they sway.

I love your smiles,
and the dimples they leave behind.

I love your hair,
and the way it flows down your back.

I love your voice,
and how it soothes my mind.

I love your eyes,
and all the subtle colors within.

I love everything about you,
and anything that you could ever be.

I tell you...

I love you
and all that you are.

I tripped over my heart,
and fell into you...

****!

Now what do I do?

Innocent eyes staring back at me and my guilty filthy soul.

So mucked up and even deeper a grit I feel, for tainting such a starfull sky beyond which all trains traverse.

Leave me behind,
In the dirt I prefer.

So that I may sow my seeds for yet another blackened blend of months and grow them into years...

All the same.

All in a row.

Talk to me,
for I am alone.

Take my hand,
for I am lonely.

Promise me,
for I am scared.

Hold me,
for I am fading.

Bury me,
for I have gone cold.

If I keep running,
will I reach my destination?

If I sit here and wait,
will it come to me?

If I stop all-together,
will it bounce back like a boomerang?

And what if I ignore it...

Will it finally let me sleep?

I love her.

Basic in it's being.
As such is the keeping of it.

A thesis to the "ins" and "outs."
The "ups" and "downs."
The "all abouts."

An equation of this and that.
In direct proportion to the simplicity of directional momentum...

So do we conclude,
equal complexity
to that which was not spoken.

To that which was kept.

Only relenting to a factor of time.

From which
the variable of existence
can evolve itself.

In and of itself.

Imagining us together...

Holding hands and exchanging vows.

Kissing and consummating.

To passionately conceive.
And to birth a passion.

To raise it,
and love it,
and watch it grow.

For us as well...
To grow old,
and love one another all the same.

And in it's own time,
to die at your side.

But for all it's worth,
to live a life worth living,
with you.

Yes, indeed.
Imagining us together...
It does not scare me.

Not one bit.

Not when I look at you.