Stealing Lover

I dare not write about love too beautifully. Hope is sometimes more painful than despair. The love that is incomplete because of her betrayal and the life that is incomplete because of her departure are the straw that is held tightly in the hand. Don't dare to describe your lover as too beautiful. She is most beautiful when you can't have her. The fields stretched out by the corners of her mouth, the night sky made quiet by her breathing, cannot be touched or dusted. This is the only love I have, the only past, a dream that I close my eyes tightly and refuse to wake up from. This is the only love I have, a tight hug, the wind that I hold in my hand and refuse to let go.