airenzi

I would offer this metaphor. Imagine two separate rooms, one man in each room. They are trapped there, alone. Each man is divided forever from the person who was most precious to him. In their isolation, they are each given an image of their loved ones. The first man is given a full-length painting, perfect in every detail, of his beloved as he best remembers her, gazing out at him from the canvas. The second man is given a window. Through it, he can see his beloved, see her move and breathe, but he cannot hear her, can never touch her, and she can neither hear nor see him. So would I compare separation by death and separation by quarrel. At

I don't miss you anymore. I miss the part of me that is you. I miss it because now that you're gone, it has ceased to grow and begun to shrink, and I know one day it will be as small and hard to see as a particle of fog, and I can never stop it. I really believe I'm never going to see you again. Even if you come back. You were my honor. My compassion. You were my joy and love and hope. I fought to give these to you and they bloomed in my heart like the light I always dreamed of seeing in your face. What will happen to the good in me, now that you are not here to receive it? I know it will not fail, but I fear it will become lost in the midst

So short! I hit my elbow on her head As she followed close behind me. No tears, Only a giggle, and then her hand And now she walks along beside me