What you mean to me cannot be put into words and yet not to try is a great failure.
If a memory is but a brain recollection, why does the thought of you cause my heart to ache?
There was a time, when we were younger, when our beliefs circumscribed the limits of our passion, but those inhibitions only drew desire in that much more tightly.
I remember tree bark and snowballs, bus stop dropoffs and pickups.
I remember the smell of your hair.
In partings and reunions there's always a vision of your smile.
There have been storms.
It's funny we both love the rain.
What are years compared to a heart's longing?
What is a life without love?
And yet, how can I touch the heart of things without touching you?
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