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.