MC 1:14

You are my art, you know? I can write about anything; the way the wind softly caresses the trees or how the stars brilliantly light the night sky above us. But when I try to write about you, I find myself at a loss for words. That is how I know I have found something truly special; that I can be in awe of it, of you, as if you were a mighty waterfall or stoic pine. That I can see the nature within you, and be humbled by it. That all I can bring myself to do is be silent, enraptured by you, and want nothing more than to understand the beauty and art of you.


The Snake

I found an old e-mail you had sent me years ago. It didn’t say much; you never did have much to say to me. I sat looking at your e-mail address for what felt like hours. A part of me wanted to reach out to you but what could I say that I haven’t already said? I deleted that e-mail, my final connection to the parts of me that would once have moved mountains for you should you have asked. But there is nothing here for you, not anymore. Only the silence you have ever graced me with and the echoes of the past.


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