From the Heart

In brokenness the most passionate memories are all that are left. There is a deep sorrow still unknown to the yet bereft from love’s abandonment. There is a well with perpetual depths filled with the tears of all who have wept. There is healing in the whispers of an angel’s breath. There is a profound intimacy that is beautifully transcendent. There is affectionate and passionate sentiment from kisses on the neck. There is a silence when lovers are in each other’s arms that cause tears to fall. There is a tenderness when making love that expresses the intent of the heart. 

Eyes Never Lie

It is the eyes that are telling when gazing upon the countenance of a woman. The delicateness of her is immeasurably beautiful. She is a pink rose in the morning dew. You must love her to draw water from the deep well of her soul. The wonderful sent of her blow-dried hair could be considered something so simple, but in the arms of her lover it becomes something deeply intimate. The crown she wears is a crown of passionate kisses from the lover that truly loves her. The Sun is her father, and the North Star is her mother. She was conceived in December in the coldest winter that envied the warmth of her. The beauty of her countenance is the manifestation of the radiance of her essence that lies beneath the surface. She is the Phoenix eternally rising, her diamond eyes breathtakingly shining as she stares upon a celestial horizon. 


Where were you when I needed you? All I asked for was understanding and compassion. It wasn’t about sex. It wasn’t about fucking. I valued you as a woman, not body parts for selfish sexual satisfaction. I truly tried in every beautiful way to convey my emotions. Still, I apologize for my own errors. Still, my heart sends you loving whispers. With every intimate moment I reached to caress your essence. With every kiss I wanted you to know that I loved you with everything within me. So many years are spent in unhappiness in the unforgiving purgatory of pretense. So much fucking time is wasted with trivial and bullshit arguments. One thing that I can say about myself is, I always gave you room to vent. At risk of looking weak I would shed tears and tell you that I didn’t want to leave. You once were my reprieve. You were the life that I breathed. In my anxiety, sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to be the man that you needed. I wanted to bring the comfort of security, love and financial stability. I wanted a transcendent intimacy. I wanted you to evoke strong emotions of affection when you looked at me. I wanted you to be exceedingly joyous and happy. Perhaps you are happiest without me. Perhaps I am a romantic fool steeped in some ridiculous love fantasy. Perhaps I should beseech the ghost of Norma Jean and converse with her deeply about life, love and tragedy. The winters are so cold; baby, they are so cold. Fall is already here, and another desolate winter is near. I see you through my tears — baby, I swear that I still see you through my tears.