Hey
Love. This day is fire, that second in time, where daughters muse upon literature;
to see that face, as perfected through thoughts, to imagine those grand events;
when time is gentle, as hearts are warm, prior to those jaded fiascos. I wonder
of life, your drumming soul, aflame with promises; as young adults, racing
through ventures, and easily provoked. It becomes as sameness, those moody
alerts, putting that soul through crucibles; where fires storm, as mothers
teach, while fathers envision an angel: those bracelet charms; those flowing
dresses; that winter clothing; to part by cocoa, a palm of marshmallows, a
tender kiss; to call by minutes, filled with butterflies, to discuss those
conversations; when time is gentle, such is fluorescent, as to have experienced
but little; where love is actions, as becoming mental, while soaring through
wishes; to laugh by rhythm, as to dance through words, as to shift through
instincts: that flowing mane, those manicured brows, that bright finger-polish.
I speak from wisdom; to refrain is knowledge, as to perfect that inner
sky-world; where time is measured, as knowing for actions, while opposing
whimsical flights; but more to gardens, and gemlike museums, running by chance
along seashores; and more to waltzing, by heart of meditations, piecing
together witty quotes; to have such words, our converse rich, while musing upon
our options. It takes for seeing, while living by measures, to become a great
person; where hearts are glowing, as thoughts are sequenced, and parents are in
admiration; but more to adventure, those long goodbyes, those cards and kisses
and teddy bear joys; to imagine forever, this
torn event, to have for nothing except for love; as days are short, where
nights are long, while nothing matters but those smiles. It takes for measures,
to feel beyond seconds, to play while protecting your inheritance; but humans
live, singing of vice, filled with inner communications; to want that voice,
that precious hand—those faraway glances; but more to spirit, that different
feeling, as more gratifying than ever; for this is love, this other pleat, where
two are one at heart.
