I call to you, my love, on the great and world wide web:

There is a room in the house of my soul where the afternoon has been suspended. You'll find me there, sitting with my hands folded in my lap waiting for you. The day seems held on half inhalation and my heartbeat is slow. The path that leads to our home is edged with flowers.  They too, seem to incline towards where you will walk when you come home, when you come home…

It has been a long afternoon waiting for you, my love. I watch the sunlight give the stage to feathers weightless in the air.

Love will not allow the day to dim until you come home.  Do I care that that the sane and savvy ones say, "It's not healthy. It's over. You need to meet someone new. It didn't work out, move on"?  How can I, I beg of you tell me, when my heart is held by you?

Know this, my love, on the day that I was formed in the womb of my mother I was born to this end: to love you and only you.

You are my breath, my unfinished sentence, my friend and I love you so.

Enough goo! Now get me right out of here - let's go