Everyday, I studied the aspect of his eyes, his gait, his definition pushing with such vibrancy and depth that cast off the demons within me and deemed me the holiest saint
walking the red sea of my sins unwashed.
Half-comprehended notions leave me to my vices, those which the might oak delivered unto me, the blazing phoenix became for me.
What, then, is love?
If not longing for your scent, waiting for your imprint, wandering aimlessly with admiration and companionship — then what? Long have I been blind and deaf to the subject that I scarce believe in your soothing words, waters that quake the strongest of calms and stills them in their path.
