late nite inspiration

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 and the wheel of time never 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 truth is the intention was always there. muffled by the complications of life and the maliciousness of the world in which we were placed the truth is the innocence never left. the warmth never trickled cold and the shine in your eyes never truly ran away. the truth is it was silenced by a thin veil. the truth is the implications of love went unchanged. all the difference came in the succumbing nature of your heart. that as fragile and as powerful, it never prepared itself for a battle. the battle was never disguised. the truth is that the inevitable river flowed and you stood along, proud as ever, like i never imagined you could. and that in itself was the worst. sunny weather shone in my mind for miles never once fearing the coming of the storm. for me, you were it in it's purest form. no fire and if fire only in the form of passion. if passion only in the desire for my well being. never for selfish intentions always in innocence. if inappropriate, always innocent. never changing. my existence flowed on but its completeness was undeniable. the truth of it is that time never left us. and the immensity of it all is still felt whether i was turned away or submerged in a sea of gratefulness. through words embellished there was never any harm because as great and as mighty as your claims might have been or as scornful and punishing, the magnificence of them always rang true through the channels of everything i ever knew or was ever even mildly aware of. and whether your eyes long for me or they know me no longer, the love will never be a fabrication of any one's imagination. and always, just as the tree falls without causing any alarm, the protests of my blood will never paint your skies red. whether your pulse is reaching or whether it's my mind's eye creating its own reality, to me it will always be static. exact. untainted. envy never had a chance. coexistence was never attainable. and so to think that this will ever cease is unfathomable and will never go further than my admitting the subtle implications of this 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 bliss coinciding. and just like the never ending story, this, my friend, will ALWAYS remain. never i, yours. never you, truly mine... victims of love- at its finest.