The heart of the matter lies in the middle of nowhere, the place is there but, I cannot see it yet. Her lips are still red from last night’s kiss, my lipstick hasn’t faded away. She lies jaded among the roses I have made to fall upon our bed. Am I lost in space yet or am I just here laying beside her? Yet, she smiles, a bit of sunshine amongst the darkness that is our room in the morning. She has been sick for days, perhaps weeks and I have not been bothered to ask after her, and now she is there, lost in outer space as a person who knows and still is not quite there yet. Do you remember how the rain fell S? If so, do you scream out in repentance when it is not falling into your face anymore? Or is it accepted like all things I say are accepted onto the list of things that are not quite there yet.
If romance is a structure that I cannot yet fathom, I would spend it in researching the mysteries that you bring into my life, and if I am just a broken windowpane staring out into the soul of a person you would have been thee stone.
This is sadness.
This permeates the senses, and makes me feel like you are there at this very moment and the very moment I would turn I would see you but, you’re not there. Maybe, this isn’t for you, maybe this is just another vain call to force that I make, and I do not know what love itself is but, the end cause is all the same and love is never quite there yet.
You are everything.