Hope is a dangerous game.

Oh how I love her so; out of reach, but I don’t know if it’s forever. One tells themselves it’s forever, so as to enable moving on, to make it easier, to let go and replant – to grow. But distance, temporal nor physical seems to separate us so. To and fro, like the waves under the moon’s glow, up and down, back and forth, an ebb and flow of energy between souls, no? I hope so. Or maybe I’m just crazy. Maybe I’m just not grounded in reality. Maybe so. But I do know that when your ocean blue eyes gaze into me, my heart doesn’t turn to stone, no; it opens wide – but you didn’t need to know this, no: you already knew this, so…

Once upon a time, a love once told me that maybe we’d meet again one day. I didn’t believe her, no. But now I know that she was right, but not exactly. Love is formless, and can have variable physical manifestation, but the emotion is one and the same. That passion knows no language, nor any body. That passion is a fire that rages deep, and you… Well, you make me burn brighter, like once before, but this time better, brighter, and I suspect sustainably, too. At least, I hope, and we all know hope is a dangerous game.

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