More than the moments I remember the feelings. The cold and heavy weight of being so minuscule to the world, sitting in the field along side your house, hearing only the snow fall and our breathing. Shivers down my spine when you caught my eye. I cried then, with happiness. The orange rays of a late summer day, the hot, salty wind on my face. Humming cicadas sing to us as we cruise down the country roads and swim in the ice cold lake. My long, tired legs wrapped around your waist and my arms floating above my head, rising and falling with the gentle lake waves. Peace and warmth enveloped me. Laying restless but comforted by echoing pitter-patter of rain on the tent roof matched to the soft breathing of your sleep. Love, when you sat behind me in the tub, washing my hair and running just finger tips down my spine. Just as vivid, those times apart when I felt only for you. The feelings, not just the moments. So clear in my mind are the breezes and the lapping water, the bitter cold snow on my bare skin but the warmth of my hand in yours. Clearer than a dream, like I am living it again, each feeling so sweet and delicate. So pure. That, my friend, I miss, intensity in feelings. Sadly, you, no longer.
More than the moments I remember the feelings. The cold and heavy weight of being so minuscule to the world, sitting in the field along side your house, hearing only the snow fall and our breathing. Shivers down my spine when you caught my eye. I cried then, with happiness. The orange rays of a late summer day, the hot, salty wind on my face. Humming cicadas sing to us as we cruise down the country roads and swim in the ice cold lake. My long, tired legs wrapped around your waist and my arms floating above my head, rising and falling with the gentle lake waves. Peace and warmth enveloped me. Laying restless but comforted by echoing pitter-patter of rain on the tent roof matched to the soft breathing of your sleep. Love, when you sat behind me in the tub, washing my hair and running just finger tips down my spine. Just as vivid, those times apart when I felt only for you. The feelings, not just the moments. So clear in my mind are the breezes and the lapping water, the bitter cold snow on my bare skin but the warmth of my hand in yours. Clearer than a dream, like I am living it again, each feeling so sweet and delicate. So pure. That, my friend, I miss, intensity in feelings. Sadly, you, no longer.
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