How
has she loved you; as dying to mold you; as forfeiting the laws of reason? They
wrestle with love, whereby, fevered for love, at war with love. It’s the
nuances, the treasures, the caves of love; to hold one so strong, and yet, so
delicate, as face to face this faceless love; as heart to soul, this mind for
love, as this penchant for love; born wistful, as longing for treasure, to grip
hold of life. How has he loved you; as dying to mold you; as forfeiting the
laws of logic? They build castles, whereat is love, colored in orthodoxy; to
cherish each measure, as friends of love, as to perish to treasure love. Their
energy is magnitude, by which they favor trust, as face to face this faceless
love; but even more, a world of adjectives—to describe this faceless triumph.
They sit in company—the long Brookhaven, building heaven; as to fly their
souls, captive by visions, this longstanding love. It’s the fabric of fey, as
joined to hearts, the measure of the inexplicable; as held in concrete, as
potent as abstracts, a thesis as an entity. They inspire kingdoms, wherefore is
honor, this thing held in high regard. Their hands are manuscripts, grounded in
morality, featured in magazines; where ethics are monumental, tears are
invites, as love is building castles. We
admire such love, as trenchant the empire, the truss of a thousand vows; to
have as to hold, this immortal kiss, founded upon concrete; as to love the
abstract, this treasure of wits, a living memoir. They found for glory, the
heights of love, as steady as elevation. Their cosmos is love; their minds are
visions; their intuition is essence. How have we loved you; as centered through
you; as forfeiting the terrors of our lives?
