no love compares to the way
her body sways in the wind
after the sun kisses her skin
in pure bliss. even the night sky
is jealous of her body
and how its darkness can shine
without the need for ten thousand stars.
He comes to her in the late nightly hours. His contours flaring vivid golden, his silhouette brightly pulsing. His smile emits such radiance, this boy who had once loved her.
Faithfully, he comes to her in the late nightly hours. To tell her of the place he has seen. How beautiful the light there shone; how it made him feel like the first time he ever laid eyes on her; how all the love he carried inside seemed to be bundled, making him beam in radiating energy.
How he cannot wait for their reunion.
Every single night this boy, who had once loved her, appears. Bringing with him the pure joy and hope that only a soul could strip from the body when it leaves.
He comes faithfully, persevering. Ghastly. Every single night. He comes. He comes and she weeps. He haunts and she weeps. He smiles, he talks, he loves, but he cannot see how she weeps. How she weeps – for what he had done in the last nightly hours of his tangibility.
The reunion he anticipates so giddily will never be.
This foolish boy who had once loved her; who could not live without her, will one night arrive in the latest of hours, only to find the girl he once loved has moved on to greener pastures.
Then, by her bed, now empty, he will suddenly comprehend his cruel reality. And this boy who once loved a girl so much that he could not live without her will holleringly shatter. A million pieces of despairing dust will timelessly float within eternity. Aimlessly. Penitently.
Tortured by the knowing he will never reach that place where the light shone beautifully; where all the love that he carried inside him seemed to be bundled in radiating energy. That place where she has gone to be forever. Where she is as happy as he was that day when he first locked eyes with her.
Lonely hearts have a tendency to stick their veins out, in hope of connecting to someone else’s blood vessels. The only problem is that the bearers of those hearts have reached a point where they feel like they don’t know how to do that anymore. They’ve been put down too many times, told that they’re abnormal so often, to the point of nearly believing it themselves. They tell themselves that they just aren’t meant to be around anyone else, that they were born to love infinitely and to never be loved the same.
You don’t necessarily get to choose who you fall in love with. You don’t get to choose who makes you stutter when you talk to them for the first time. You don’t get to choose who makes your cheeks burn & turn bright red. You hope they don’t notice you staring but that one day when you look & they were already looking makes you just want to smile & your heart goes crazy. You don’t get to choose who makes your hands sweaty because you’re so nervous around them. You don’t get to choose who gives you butterflies at the thought of them or the mention of their name. Who you fall in love with is completely up to fate. But when you fall in love with them you can’t be anything but happy, because they are your happy & they are finally yours.
A bright day after 2 o'cl and a warm spell. Took a short walk in the morning. Took inventory of my things and books and started to put aside everything that I want to bring with me if we have to go to England. After breakfast walked with Olga and Tatiana and worked in the garden. Spent the evening as usual.