My hand stretches out.
I touch.
My mind's eye catches yours.
I connect.
My imagination takes over.
I dream.
My love depends.
I fall.
Softly.

My senses come to terms with my surroundings.
I am looking in the mirror, delving into my soul.

I've connected with my loneliness.

Touch -
The most significant insignificance.
Sight -
The slightest intention.
Hearing -
The loudest silence.
Taste -
The most complicated intricacy.
Smell -
The love of the non-discriminatory.
You -
The "when all else fails".

She's a stranger, the most beautiful stranger.

As we move nearer, I feel her tug at my heart.
I feel an abundance of affection, injecting through my veins.

I am greeted with the urge to love.

She tightens her grip, her hand is on my heart.
Her hand is golden, pure gold.
What I see is more than I ever wanted; someone who truly loves me.

I am greeted with the urge to love.

But. Her hand starts to flake, it's only gold plated.
Her grip and her tug starts to pain.
She's not who her image promised to be.

She's a danger, the most beautiful danger.

Modest colours engulf the earth,
Everything seems to be losing its worth.
Structures slowly fall apart,
As all creation loses heart.

Greeted by the snap and crackle,
Slowly everything starts to make sense.
Slowly, losing suspense,
Death escapes my satchel.

I'm a human, who brings death in my satchel, to a forest already mourning the life of humanity while it goes through the pain of autumn.

I'd send you a text; a greeting.
You'd reply; a greeting.
We'd talk about a few things; small talk.
We'd casually flirt and enjoy; affection.
I'd revive the conversation; hopefulness.
I'd try my best to keep it flowing; eagerness.
We'd continue to an unmutual conversation; unhealthy.
You'd neglect contributing to the conversation; careless.
I'd restart the process daily; care.

But, you'd never even try to start a conversation let alone try the process I've perfected; speechless.

Exterior beauty is viewed like the average individual passing a painting.
They barely understand meaning, but seem to conclude that the painting is beautiful.

Interior beauty is ignored like the average individual passing a painting.
They understand the surface, they see it's beauty, but the exact story behind the painting is unknown and worthless.

We focus on the exterior, make a decision and leave, but forget that the interior is what will reveal itself louder than the most bombastic exterior.

We all love,
But never mutually.

She approaches you with more than just love.
You keep your distance because you know what you want from her - not love.

She tries everything to win you over, but you don't budge, yet you continuously search for love.

A never-ending search for love never bears fruit because love seems to never be mutual.

You find so much love, but it's always one-sided and never from your side.