A Fallen Angel Under A Dark Moon

There never seems to be enough time for those perfect moments... You know them when you feel them, and just as surely, you know they have to end... And that lends to those moments a bittersweet quality that urges you to capture it in your memory - the tone of a voice, the sound of the rain on the roof, the taste on your lips, the emotions that are surging through you... And yet, while you're doing this, trying so hard to preserve that moment - you can't share it with the one who caused it... There aren't words... It is so unifying and intimate, and yet it is separate too... A crystalline thought that shines out only through your eyes because it can't emerge from your lips...

But I wish I could make a scrapbook of those moments I could place into his hands... It would be full of sweet smiles pressed between pages of laughter... Shimmering tears of joy, hilarity, sorrow, and grief would affix the amorphous shapes of emotions to leaves made from slices of my soul... Sun bright golden clouds of bliss, pale green swirls of comfort, and burgundy tempests of passion... It would be a book like no other, and one whose creation could not have been accomplished without his influence in my life... If I could present him with such a book, perhaps he could finally see what I see - himself through my eyes... Not perfect, but perfectly imperfect...

I can't stop the world from spinning... I can't make those perfect moments linger in timelessness eternally... I can only store them - precious treasures all - close inside my heart, woven into the tapestry of my being... And share them through the lovelight he brings into my eyes...