Ode to the lover that just can't

Aug 14, 2008 11:00

This

is for all
    the nightly conversations we've made before sleep
    the stolen glances you've thrown to my direction
    the few visits you made right out my doorstep
    the riddles and jokes that carried true meaning
    the sharp observations you make of me
     the thoughts you said that I had believed true
    the scratches and bruises I gave you (a rather violent form of affection)
    the commute rides
    the one Granny ride
    the collected minutes of JCL-paid mobile conversations
    the hand-claspings we had squeezed in when we could
    the attention
    the care

the kisses we can't make
             the love that we can't share.

Loving is inevitable.
But.

Love is a choice, not a feeling. We do what we have to do, what we think is for our personal satisfaction. We can't blame time and the ceremonies it does to us. It's just the way it is.

You're a special kind, and I know it. How ever I'm broken in several ways hard to find logical given this particular situation, I am happy about you happening to me.

Maybe in another lifetime,            .
For now, we'll just see each other around.

Axelle.

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