beauty is most tragic of forms, like the gentle rain at the end of summer, marking the end of life. my hurt is endless, it softens and hardens of its own will. beauty in form, form in it, it being love, love that never ceases, love that cannot die. love that will not die. it goes on and on, like currents of the great ocean, like the days of my life. a river of blood and tears and ***** flow endlessly along my path, in an attempt to dry my veins and numb my pain. you, of the earth, my lonesome love, my one and only. may our gods bless your world. may they help you realize my love was true, that even in our dysfunction, there was nothing more important to me. you of godly names, my eternal lover, my heart and hands, my hurtful other, i will always love you.