A leather-bound work of art catches my eyes and convinces them to feast upon what it has to offer,
They gobble up each word, those gluttons, stuffing themselves,
Until they get full and dizzy to the point where I’m reading the same line, the same line, the same line, over and over again.
I fall into a trance and my mind begins to curiously wander.
My soul takes this atlas of all that has existed, exists, and will exist, and uses it as its play ground,
Jumping over the letters, sliding down the “J”s, weaving around the “S”s, jumping over the “O”s, and ducking under the “H”s.

I pick up this narrative of life and attempt to decipher the map of all that was, all that is, and all that will be.
For this novel tells a story of one and tells the story of a million,
And it is my mission to read every single word, to pause at every comma, and to flip every page.

I realize that out of all of the stories in this compilation of creations,
I am just one of them.
I am one sentence,
I am one word.

There will always be a time, when he is leaving me.

He leaves now, as a test for what is to come. This month I will be alone, and the only things I will have are the technological communications to suffice for my emotional cravings. His body won't be here. I won't be able to hear him take in deep and peaceful breaths. I won't be able to look up to see his eyes gazing down at me, or him attempting to mask an ever so slight smile on his lips. He won't be here to take my face into his hands, to kiss my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my lips. His kisses will be whispers in the wind, traveling far distances to keep our relationship alive.

In a few months, he will depart for what I fear is to be for good. He is going take on the world and to live his life. He is going to give true beauty to the world with his alluring smile, and show the world what it is like to truly be passionate about something. I do support his every move, I do.

However

I am utterly terrified because he soon will become a memory. A sweet reminiscence of what I had. His being will become merely an image in my mind, instead of a concrete person in front of me. I am sad to say it, but I am realizing that I am selfish. Because I need him here. With me.

There are always times where he will go off, to do greatness. This is my curse for falling for a free spirit. I just hope and pray that there will always be a time when he comes back.

once upon a time, she believed in love.
until he pushed her away with an awakening shove.
because when she opened up to him,
about why there were scars on her limbs,
he left her and ran away,
and so, the very next day,
she told herself that love isn't real,
and closed herself off with a sickening seal.

his bony fingers
are frail and thin,
and hide beneath,
his falling skin.

the wrinkles on his palms,
a calloused story,
telling the time he fought in war,
for freedom and glory.

his deteriorating nails
are chipped and cracked,
when he protected his wife,
she was brutally attacked.

the hinges in his hands,
although worn out,
creaked with the same song,
that used to be his patriotic shout.

There are some people in this world who bring out the best in you. And then there are those who bring out the worst. But there is a third type, the rare kind of person that is extremely hard to find. This is the kind of person that brings out the most in you, whether it be good or bad.

They make you cry at ten pm and then make you laugh hysterically at three am. They gingerly trail their thumb along yours while holding your hand and then stay horribly silent when they see tears tumbling down from your eyes.  They make you love the arguments, because everything they say is driven by ardor instead of acrimony. They make you begin to recognize the genuine affection that is hidden in the smallest of smirks.

They don't gently wipe away your tears and tell you it will be okay, but pick you up by the arm and tell you that yes, life will ******* over. Because they know that this is what is going to get you to finally stand up for yourself.  They tell you blatantly when your jokes ****, and insist on better ones. They make you feel so alive that you know you would follow them straight into hell if it means you can keep getting your fix. They cry easily, but due to the fact that they feel so much, and so much of it is for you.

They aren't your significant other, but they sure as hell give you a significant life.