My God, he could never understand why she watched so many music documentaries, listened to so many eclectic songs, so many symphonies and just be flooded with emotions. He never got it. He never got her. He got bits and pieces of her, yet the rest was a mystery. She was his paradox. He'd sit and watch her get lost in a sonata, a Van Halen guitar solo, or simply a musician along Music Row. He never could understand how she did it. How, even though she was so different and foreign, that she could feel so much like home to him. So close to what he needed forever. She was his beautiful, mysterious, paradox.

i see you in everything
not just in the lonely empty moments
as I walk through the bright day
surrounded by laughter
all I hear is your laugh
that I haven't heard in months
but I remember the exact sound
as if you are still inches away
smiling on my lips

i can almost see you

and as I look through this book, I realize just how lovely you truly are through the scribbled mess you have left on the pages within.