The words have been, can be, and will be said again.
There is no doubt love like ours will replay just as the carousel will never stop spinning or the wheel of time stop turning.
Whether it is once upon a time, happily ever after, or if one day... the truth of it will always be that the feelings were felt, the tears shed, the beats skipped, the laughter spilt, and the loss mourned.
Whether you had laid before me forever and I had received you with open arms or whether I had come to you only to be turned away, the intention was always there; muffled by the complications of life and the maliciousness of the world in which we were placed… the innocence never left.
Sunny weather shone in my mind for miles, not once fearing the coming of the storm.
For me, you were it in its purest form. No fire, and if fire only in the outline of passion. Human nature was never a suspect of interest. If inappropriate, always pure. Sustainability and resistance. A bullet fired into the uncertainty of the universe that never deteriorated and never quite surrendered to the will of gravity.
Through words embellished there was never any harm. As great and mighty as your claims might have been or as scornful and punishing, the magnificence of them always flowed pleasantly through the channels of both my conscious and subconscious mind.
The warmth never trickled cold and the shine in your eyes never truly ran away. Instead, it was silenced by a thin veil. Still, stored somewhere in between good and bad intentions, the implication of love remained unchanged.
All the difference came in the succumbing nature of your heart. That as fragile and as powerful, it never prepared itself for such a battle. The battle was never disguised. The truth is, the reckless river flowed and you stood along, proud as ever, like I had never imagined you could. And that, in its seeming insignificance, was unbearable.
My existence flowed on but its incompleteness was irrefutable. Naïveté tarnished, dependency never once left my side. I was completely submerged by the wave while you had managed to float above it.
To me it was as always as tangible as the weight of your arms around my shaking body. A feeling so vigorous it embodied more than a sense. It was a being all on its own. Something, in all its irony, too real to be true.
And whether your eyes ever registered the frequency of my silhouette in your routine or barely took notice, the love will never be a fabrication of any one's imagination. Deniable through the asphalt finish but apparent in the pothole hidden underneath.
Just as the tree falls without causing any alarm, the protests of my blood will never paint your skies red.
Regardless of time and wearing, to me, it was deemed to remain static.
Destruction never had a chance. Not in a long shot. Coexistence was never attainable. Unimaginable. The storyline will go no further than admitting the subtle implications of my text. The knowledge will not escape me, and I am as aware of the lining as I am of being caught in the rain.
It is gushing, pouring, breathtaking as much as it is silent, reluctant, and heartbreaking. Melancholy and ecstasy coinciding. Resilience at its finest.
All the while, ignorance at its utmost bliss.
