Where shall I begin this time? Shall I stress the perfection of your beauty or the gravity of your wits? Do you want to know the depths of my affection or the images that brighten my dreams? May I pose this question to you? Is love attainable? May it truly be conquered with the imperfections that we both possess? I would say that my love for you is impossible; something that not even the greatest of men can reach. But why shall I be so fortunate to experience the fullness of your touch and feel? One might catch the same joy from the feel of cotton; for you are the fabric of my life. You are the reason I live, move, and have my being. I wear you on the shoulders of my heart; so that we may never part, no matter where we might be placed physically on this earth.
Many question this infatuation that I have built up for you; it has become kind of impossible for me to understand their questioning. Do they not understand that you are more than life, purer than pure, and the perfect implication of peace? You are every breath that I breathe well, and your absence is nothing less than a nightmare. You define beauty; you are the sweetest verse, and you are the perfect note to the greatest song. You whisper love in this world of hate. What more can a man of my stature ask for? Anything better should only be left for God himself.
I have learned to cope with these days that I cannot physically see you. It isn't that bad now that I can kiss you goodnight; and I see you in the peak of beauty when the sun rises. I cannot be angry with your physical absence because I feel you more and more as the hours pass. Our bond cannot be broken by miles or meters, not even death can do that. My life is in you, for you have absorbed me.
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