Heart-stringed symphonies

In love there is too much leaving. In love there are too many contradictions.

I pressed my lips onto one page after another. One more sentence and one more smile until the words find enough air to come alive again. I want the moment to live again because I put a part of me between those pages so now I feel so disconnected from a place I wanted to call home. I loved and I lost and I keep losing. But I keep loving too.

My only complaint is only that love is unfair and time much too cruel a judge of the violations and imperfections of love. As gratefulness that it begun we must graciously accept that it also must end. That we are discontented at its ending is a reminder that we were meant for a life beyond time.

Giving thanks a new meaning....

You're so beautiful. You take my breath away without even opening your eyes. I miss those kisses in the darkness and the way you wrote your name after "I love you". But I hated the way I felt when my hands were empty, and only a thousand accusing eyes met mine as I tried to find an answer, as to why what we had was good enough to break all the rules.

I'm truly thankful for all of it. I'm thankful for the ugliest moments in my life. And I'm thankful for all that you took away. It's a odd thing to say, that one is thankful for shame, emptiness, and agony; and guilt, doubt and suffering. But what would I be without it? Without you? I'd be a girl with eyes on the ground, who never found the courage to stare life down and say what had to be said. For what I am today because of you, that is my reason for not forsaking who I've been. Imperfection needs improvement, undoubtedly...but my imperfection was my motivation. I hope it still is my motivation. Thank you for all I do not have, do not know, and will not ever be.

Let us inspire each other even in our weakness. Finding the edge of everything defines us, and gives us room to grow. I did not treat you the way I should have. I couldn't love the way I wanted too. But hear in my apology a sincere eagerness for a second chance. Maybe we'll even stop pretending and let broken, contrite hearts spin the world.