HOME | DD

Description
To My Love,

I miss talking to you. Hearing your voice was like hearing the orchestra hit a chord and tune it so perfectly that the heart and the soul soared with its beauty. Your words were the movements that made up entire symphonies of sentences. Your voice is the only thing that can soothe my ears after days and weeks of arguing with pointless chatter with those around me about meaningless points of view. Yours are the only words I want to hear forever. When you sing to me I cannot remain sad, and hearing your softly ringing voice can make the grayest clouds disperse. When our two voices sing as one it is as if our souls are merging to become one. Can you feel it too?

I miss seeing you. The statues and paintings of the finest Renaissance artists hold nothing to the wonder that is your being. Your beautiful eyes always made me breathless when they looked into my own unworthy ones, and your hands so strong and caring held me just tight enough to let me know that you'll always be there for me. Are you sure you want to be with me until time stops and the world crumbles to nothingness? Your lips, which are soft as silk, could kiss my own and make me forget the world. Your very presence makes me feel whole and worthwhile, as if living this life is worth the pain of being in this plane of existence brings.

I miss being certain of your love for me. Seeing you nearly every day was like seeing the light at the end of the longest most depressing tunnel, there to shine my way home, knowing that in a moment I would be safe and warm in your arms. Without you here I'm starting to wonder if I'm not just a silly little girl who knows nothing, wandering around in the dark searching for a black cat called 'Love' that isn't really there. I have yet to shed tears for you, for those diamond-like forms to fall I must be told to go away and never return, to be banished from your heart forever. But that is a part of being a silly little girl: to be thickheaded enough to hold on when one's mind says to walk away.

I miss you. It has been weeks since you and I have truly talked and I am holding onto hope a if it is the last breath of a dying man trying to surface from ice cold water. But I am not sorrowful. I do not look at that last breath as a staggering intake of air, but as a beautiful Sunset rosebud planted on it's own in a pot. If it grows my love for you will bloom and never fade, as this letter will. If it does not grow and it dies, slowly but quickly turning away from the vibrant colors that went from brightest yellow to deepest orange and into black and brown, then and only then will I cry for you.

I miss you, My Love.

Description
To My Love,

I miss talking to you. Hearing your voice was like hearing the orchestra hit a chord and tune it so perfectly that the heart and the soul soared with its beauty. Your words were the movements that made up entire symphonies of sentences. Your voice is the only thing that can soothe my ears after days and weeks of arguing with pointless chatter with those around me about meaningless points of view. Yours are the only words I want to hear forever. When you sing to me I cannot remain sad, and hearing your softly ringing voice can make the grayest clouds disperse. When our two voices sing as one it is as if our souls are merging to become one. Can you feel it too?

I miss seeing you. The statues and paintings of the finest Renaissance artists hold nothing to the wonder that is your being. Your beautiful eyes always made me breathless when they looked into my own unworthy ones, and your hands so strong and caring held me just tight enough to let me know that you'll always be there for me. Are you sure you want to be with me until time stops and the world crumbles to nothingness? Your lips, which are soft as silk, could kiss my own and make me forget the world. Your very presence makes me feel whole and worthwhile, as if living this life is worth the pain of being in this plane of existence brings.

I miss being certain of your love for me. Seeing you nearly every day was like seeing the light at the end of the longest most depressing tunnel, there to shine my way home, knowing that in a moment I would be safe and warm in your arms. Without you here I'm starting to wonder if I'm not just a silly little girl who knows nothing, wandering around in the dark searching for a black cat called 'Love' that isn't really there. I have yet to shed tears for you, for those diamond-like forms to fall I must be told to go away and never return, to be banished from your heart forever. But that is a part of being a silly little girl: to be thickheaded enough to hold on when one's mind says to walk away.

I miss you. It has been weeks since you and I have truly talked and I am holding onto hope a if it is the last breath of a dying man trying to surface from ice cold water. But I am not sorrowful. I do not look at that last breath as a staggering intake of air, but as a beautiful Sunset rosebud planted on it's own in a pot. If it grows my love for you will bloom and never fade, as this letter will. If it does not grow and it dies, slowly but quickly turning away from the vibrant colors that went from brightest yellow to deepest orange and into black and brown, then and only then will I cry for you.

I miss you, My Love.