I couldn't let go. Even if I wanted to, the solemnness was deafening; the absence of rain, desperate. I told myself to be still, to stay the course. Yet, there I was, declaring emotions held deep within the caves of my soul. It happened so swiftly and took so much force, that by the end, I was breathless.
Dream Gypsy. If I should write a book for you, the titular character would be named as such. You are new and old, reserved and earth shaking. Brash, yet vulnerable. Piercing my soul with such force, that I cannot fully comprehend the whys and I dare not even attempt to turn my head and look. And during that piercing, when your sword is removed, it takes with it a piece of my soul.
Dear Gypsy. Dedicated to you are some of my aspirations, my words, my desires, my most intimate of conversations and emotions. Days and nights have been witness to such a theater; to your vulnerabilities, to your deeply held secrets, your sadness, your torment.
Yet, here we are. With some direction, with a timeline. Life is short dear Gypsy. Life beckons. In certain ways, it becomes clear. In others, it becomes elusive. We both understand.
Your poignant smile always tinged with a sadness; one I long to remove. The loneliness can be daunting at times dear Gypsy. Yet, you are still, burning inside my chest. The sword, recently removed.
In dreams, in reality, let us find that elusive happiness. Let us find the whispers that speak to just us. The storm, the silence, the things that no one else can comprehend. There is a place for us in this world dear Gypsy. And while the first few chapters may be breathless, the final few are unforgettable.
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