Every relationship is different.

Spring.
Our relationship was not
Based in lightheartedness.
It was not a freeing love,
But rather a subdued intoxicated thing,
That hid in the shadows between our souls.
It was deep and serious
Because your life was not a lighthearted place.
I had dwelled in your mind and seen your fears,
I came to understand your bitterness,
Which you passed off as a care-free spirit
And a tough exterior.
But I loved you so.
I loved you when you left too.

Winter.
Somehow under a snowy gray sky
I came alive again,
With a relationship new and bright.
Not like the place of shadows and depth,
But rather like fire,
that came alive from a single spark
and breathed warmth back into my heart.
We share a light
It spills out of your eyes and into mine.
We thrive in a place where laughter floats on the wind
and the past is all but forgotten.
Where two people can learn about love
And not be burdened by fear.
where time itself ceases to exist
as we get lost in the moment.

It seems as though relationships
Are not simply various emotions,
But rather entirely different worlds
Just waiting to be discovered.

A Prayer.
It's a simple thing really,
Like a tiny message
That we bottle up and
Send into the Universe.
We can pray for love, or joy
Or simply for our sorrows
To end.

Today I was told that
Now is the time to
Leave behind my past
And begin again.

Can you imagine a gift so sweet?
So as I stood in a candle lit room
Full of peace, I prayed.
I sent my prayer out into
The cosmos.

I can only hope that in time,
It will be answered.

-M. Spear

Late one night
Sometime in the distant past
We were talking
Amongst soft kisses
Our words slipped out
Laced with the truth

You asked me if I was ready
You said you might not be
Good enough to be my first love.
I told you that you were,
I chose you.

Even though you eventually
Tore my heart to pieces,
Ripped my innocence
Away from me, and left me
Alone and empty

You were worth it,
Because I loved you.

-M. Spear

Many people are haunted by their memories.
I think I'm haunting mine.
Broken and dark, I follow my black heart
to the scenes of so many
happy times.

I go to these empty places
and marvel at how time
can change such scenes.

I went to the place of sweet
kisses by a warm fire,
where you pulled me close
and cradled me in your arms.
Where we slept together
in an old worn-out tent.

I sat on the dirt ground,
felt the grass with my fingertips,
and thought of what we used to be.
I cradled myself and tried not to cry.

In these memories I hold
there is now a ghost of a girl,
standing in the distance
with tears in her eyes.

-M. Spear