I wonder if there is a dark side to every great love story. With great love comes great hurt. I wonder if it is inevitable.

Haunted

You haunt me in my dreams
I can only hear my drowning screams
Is it because I'm afraid of you
Or am I afraid of this feeling
The feeling of being blue
Maybe it's me you are healing
Can I admit that it's my heart you are stealing
I'm afraid of being let down
Can you relieve me of the sound
The voices tell me to hide
In my mind is where they reside
Can I ignore the calmness you bring
You hold my heart on a string

I want him to lock his arms around me and throw away the key, because this is where he belongs and I'm scared he'll just let me go again.

Then tell me Mark, how can I do it? How do I watch her life fade everyday but not hurt? How do I continue to breath, when I know she takes one less breath everyday? Why Mark, Why is this happening to someone so precious?

I sighed, looking down at the book in my hands. The Years. I rested my elbow against the arm of the couch and cracked the spine. It had the feel of a book that hadn't been touched in decades, creaking, as if to say ahhh.

She plucked the blossoms from the bag and arranged them, one by one, in the water glass on her dressing table.
"They'll never keep," I said. "They're [hibiscus] a terrible cutting flower. They'll wilt by morning."
"I know," she said." But don't they look so pretty right now, just as they are?"
I nodded. I wished I could see the beauty in the moment the way Kitty did. It was a gift.