The taste of her lips.
The feel of her hands, intertwined in my hands.
Of her eyes locked with mine.
Of her spirit dancing with mine, so close...

When we dance, but she is afar...my spirit travels over roads a plenty.
When my arms are not around her, they feel empty.

Yearning.
Pining.
Need.

Yet, soon, her arms will return to my arms, and her spirit will dance with mine.

But until then, I stand...in what feels like a lake of frozen water.
Still.
Unmoving.
Alone.