Memories of that one and only moment we were together occupied my sleep.
The excitation in my office.
You clothes sliding from your body.
Your pregnant form beautiful and sensual.
The moment of passion in which our souls became one.
When I hear your voice, I am transported in time, to the birth of a great, unconsummated love. Ours would not merely have been a once in a lifetime love, but a once in a generation love. Our story should have been one for the ages. One for which I thought the first chapter was never completely written.
You are the great love of my life. It may be fantasy, a simple dream – however, in an uncertain time I hold hope we make our way back to one another, to finally begin a story that may have, and perhaps still might be, one which spurs the creation of great works of art.
When we speak, I feel from you, that which I thought was never found.
When we speak, my heart lifts.
When we speak, my mood brightens.
When my time is up I want –
– Your body to be the last I touch
– Your love to be the last I know
– Your beauty to be the last I see
– Your kiss to be the last I taste
– Your breath to be the last I breathe
Maybe, just maybe, if this crisis passes and all aligns — I will finally come to you, no longer damaged but complete and whole, and our story will finally be written.
I write of the damaged and broken, because that is the norm.
For each person who overcomes their demons,
there are hundreds, if not thousands, who do not.
It is their stories I tell.