running a finger down the spine of an old book
worn pages filled with stories and adventures
certain parts bookmarked with dog eared pages

a letter written with love
a postcard from a relative
keepsakes tucked in the back of the book

lines and paragraphs illustrated in detail
cathedrals created by phrases and carefully crafted words
life brought to reality with commas, periods and question marks

love once made this tome come alive
imagination kept it breathing and evolving
carelessness and ignorance cut off its airways and organisms

dust coats the brittle spine
mould suffocates its body and soul

I heard you took her to our favorite spot for your first date.
Heard that you told her that she was the prettiest girl in town.
But doesn't she know that he's already given those words to me?
I know that you're in deep and you can't turn back now.
Know that we can't do anything about what's already happening way too fast.
I mean, I went looking for a distraction and faster than I could blink, my hearts lying to me saying it's love.
And you, she looks so good with you.
And we, we shouldn't, we can't, we could never be those two.
Those inseparable beings, crazy in love with each other.
But everybody knows we'll end up with each other in the end.

I've been rereading the words that you've sent me; stumbling over phrases and going in circles around sentences.
Your words at best once flooded my being. At worst, they tore me down after building me up.
Unpredictable love, you're unpredictable.
You pull me in and pique my curiosity and reel my heart in with I love you and then toss me aside.
I'm not good enough but you say I love you, yet what you really mean is that I'm not good enough for you.
Hey, I don't take it personally and maybe that's because I'm used to it.
I'm no stranger to your patterns and antics and behaviors.
I know you better than most anyone.
And I'm a fool for wearing my heart on my sleeve and being honest with you.
I should've known better than to give you an opportunity to build me up and tear me down.
But hey, that don't do anything to me.
You can't break a heart that was never yours to begin with.

Twelve centimeters.

The space between us.

Soft, caressing, loving.

Your hands running up and down my bare spine.

Passionate, searching, intoxicating.

Your lips on mine.

You kiss me like you're searching for the raw passion buried inside of me.

Trailing kisses down my stomach, up and around my neck, gentle as ever.

Your fingers fit in mine and everything falls into place.

But nights like these never last forever.

And when the sun comes up the next day, I have to let go.

Say goodbye to the eyes that gazed so deep into mine as if searching for that endless flow of goodness and love.

Allow my fingers to slip out of the hands that traced passion on my skin.

Give myself permission to run my fingers over my lips, remembering how you ignited my very core with every kiss.

To stand still in front of you and run my hands up and over your body, burning the memory of how your skin felt against mine.

To do nothing while tears slipped down my face and I watched everything in my world fall away.

Love is a funny thing. The things we do for love. The actions we take for who we love. The things we say; all in the name of love.

I thought what I was doing was because I was in love with you. Never occurred to me that I was going about it the wrong way. Or that you were content to just be on your own.

I tell myself that time will work things out. Everyone says that.

But when does time turn into too much time?

When do you realize that while you were making up your mind, she reached the point where she couldn't wait around anymore and suddenly you've lost her all over again?

When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale's song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil.
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth