love, i could see her face as clearly in a dream as in the daylight. Her head in my lap and the stories of our childhood memories would weave into a
blanket of warmth and knowledge only two could share. If it were love, when the train passed and her hair blew through my face it would bring the smell
of a hundred nights of warmth and peace, of only her. Her apology falling on deff ears my mind to daized in her beauty. If it were love, there wouldnt be
a painful sliver of distrust buried slightly beneath my skin. I would never ask where because i would keep her in my heart and i in hers. If it were love the
arguements would never really be arguements, just a skillfull tango between to respectful partners. when it is love, she will have rolled the dutch for me when i
get home from work. when who i am is who i am, and the facades all fall to reveal my true self and she stands still wanting nothing more. What little
i am, have or ever will be i will give to find you, wherever you are. My love.