These words are

meant to be felt, not heard; experienced, not read. They tie themselves, like beads, to your ankles. They fall like silver and stardust; meant to be caught, in place of gasps and breaths. Meant to capture emotion as we talk of the last petals falling to the cold concrete of the room..the emptiness of the fading Moon gracefully excusing herself..the Wind carrying the petals off into the Sky. Meant to exclaim as we talk of Sun bursting clear through raindrops as they fall, and cloth hanging by your windows. The warmth on a side of your skin, the kind that makes your eyes half close and your cheeks glow.

Meant to inspire as we talk of two hands, to create, to renew. Two hands and strings of endless, endless words meant to be felt, not heard; a feeling meant to be experienced, not read. One hand, one that grabs onto another, and falls like silver and stardust. A chance meant to be caught, in place of gasps and breaths; and breathes.

My promises are small but certain; we will capture the last few petals as the Moon shines on, and ride the Wind off into the Sky. We will exclaim as the Sun lights your skin, bursting through raindrops and window cloth. But most certainly; your eyes will half close, and cheeks will glow, as two hands meet, create, renew..all I ask is for the right to pen words much more endearing, for you, but not nearly as you.
| {6:44 AM}