Name…?

“… I’ve been in love, yeah”

“Name? What’s his name?”

 

Name…?

What is a name?

A name is only a cage to a life that reaches beyond the single uttering from my lips.

A name is but a noise, nothing compared to the many musicals that sing of it’s existence.

… existence of a miracle, of another story yet to be unraveled, of a creation that is of love.

Love…

Love is but the blood that colors my heart to the landscapes of sweet nothings

nothing…it is nothing but the air that fills my respiring soul.

Soul…

Soul is a canvas to the many vagrant thoughts that adorn the reasons to my dreamy smiles,

Smiles…

They are only the little surprises to the lonely contours of my face..

My face…

My face is the veil that reveals more than what it may hide… if one looks closely enough, if you breach beyond the lidded shadows of my eyes, 

My eyes…

My eyes, they shall speak the truth if you converse in the language of subtle emotions,

Emotions….

Emotions that sew the broken trail of thoughts… that stitch the shreds of faltering flaws….that which remain stained even after the tears have been wiped, those emotions are troubling, tumbling, confusing… but mine. Faithful and loyal to the heart they belong… and they never lie to me, because i have dared…

Dared…

I have dared to love… to fall… to loose myself… to let all of me go…

I have been in love… in love all along.

In love with the slight change in the wind that lets free a strand of hair…

In love with the sunlight that filters ever so gently through the leaves thirsty for a drink of the rays.

In love with the bursting song of a bird, that she sings without a language, that wakes the dormant trebles in my heart.

In love with the softness of the grass… that welcomes the tired roughness of my feet.

…..with the clouds that seem to drift like my thoughts, that seem to thunder like my rage, that seem to be tinged like the color on my sun-kissed cheeks.

with the smallest flower, that goes unnoticed by searching eyes…because its shape is made to suit only the eyes that linger on for beauty.

with the far away star that winks at me in assurance, and tells me to take a smile to sleep.

with the lonely street, that sounds to the wailing howls all night, yet lets stranger steps seek solace on its surface.

in love with the words, the voices, the sheets of paper, the ink that binds my wavering self to me.

in love with the brick walls in my memory, that i trust to hold the many stories i whispered to them…

with the delightful smiles on a strangers face, that i return though to the stranger in me…

with the rusted silver and uncut stones, because they hold a history that they only confide with lovers of artful beauty.

in love with old books, lost letters,  abandoned places, imagined tales….

I’m in love with the poetry that breathes inside of me… because it is the barren truths encrusted in lies.

…so, yes.

I have been in love all along.

I have been in love, and been loved.

I have found all reasons to life.

Need I say anymore?”

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