If only I were him and you were her and she didn't live so far away and we were all too busy to write about and long for love because we were all too busy enjoying its beauty and living in the center of its deepest depths and our thirst never came from a lack of desire and it all turns cliché as I point out that we are only who we are and knowing that still isn't enough to answer the question of who are you but an endless dream of a kiss that I will never receive and I find myself sleeping and napping just to watch it repeat on the walls inside my marrow over and over again and again...

My heart overflows with pain and wonder and the beauty of remorse and the remorse of beauty and wouldn't it be nice if we could just as easily rearrange our memories so that the lives we have lived could be the lives we want to live and I've fallen in love over and over again and it seems maybe unfair to have experienced so much in one life that hasn't seen its end and I worry less about the next time or if there will ever be another such time as much as I worry that there maybe a time that won't be better than the last and whose mouth will haunt my dreams as the kiss I can't forget  and I can only hope that it will be the same pair of lips that gave me my last first kiss right after I fell off the edge of eternity and plummeted madly into love for the last time that felt like the first time I found myself in the pain and wonder of the beauty of a forever without the fear of remorse of a life a had only dreamt I could live