Have you ever been love sick? Disconsolate because of unrequited love, sorrowful because of love due to you that is not forth coming?

I miss you!

I say this with weight. Although this word, in this context deems to be superficial. In fact, all words that the corporeal aspect of my being uses are superficial. Stamping upon the surface for entry, only to watch my soul embrace my feelings and emotions and utter their response in clarity.

Does it awe you that my soul is the only part of my being that explains how I feel with any real clarity?

Oh, how inadequate sometimes is this gift of the human body; entombing the essence of our being in that which dies. Unable to talk the language of the ethereal, what we say is merely symbolic to what we feel. Playing charades with a passion that often causes man to ****.

I ask, “Is this safe?”

But life is not safe. I could die as my pen massages this leaf, leaving an unfinished ode to the cause of my grief.

You must spiritually kiss me to mentally grasp what I’m trying to say. And through those lips without color or texture escape my pain.

I miss you!