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She’s asleep now, on a totally different continent, and you know what? Somehow that makes an increase, in the knowing that she’s not at all aware of I typing this, because she’s within whatever dreams Sandman serves.
It kind of makes me happier to write these paragraphs knowing she's not here to read them now. I dunno why, can not put my finger on it.
Good ones, them dreams of hers, nevertheless, I hope.
I wish I was there, or I wish she was here, so I could be awake with her head resting on my chest, her sleeping body spread all over my own body is but a dream away, only, yet too far, and I want to hear her silent slumbering breathe, her every exhale making a warm invisible sign on my skin, I wish we were where I could glance at her beautiful face in that way lovers do, to look at her when she does not know I am watching over her, protect her from everything bad with every heartbeat of mine.
It is them moments when I feel the greatest love song is within me and possible to be written, for her, and I’m no damn musician, but such might does she inspire, and such a muse is she, that the spirit is uplifted and such love abound.
Hey, beautiful, when you wake and read this, I think I just wrote you my first love song.
Many more to come.