Never Knew...

   I never knew that I could be this misserable. Listen to me. Blogging alone during spring break about something every girl cries over at least once in their life- some thousands more than others- boys.
   Well in this case one in particular. It's nothing new. But to the particular person the particular boy always seems to be particularly paralizing. Tantilizing to the touch, loving and yearning to the thought, but most of all- warming and oh so beautifully perfect to the heart. That boy...
   He is my sunshine, and he means the world to me. Though I've known him only for months- I know him more than any boy and fear to lose him twenty times as much. A stab to the aching deprived heart every second that I am forced to be without him. How could this bond be any more stronger- without the love I feel, combusting and causing my heart to explode?
   I feel sadness... Longing... Fear, and ever consistant panging as out my window I stare longing for an escape that just won't come. I hate the terrible harrowing need that forces tears from my eyes and onto my pillow and into my heart. I am beseeged with yearning and horrible loneliness; and all I want is to hear his voice... Everyone deserves to be with their true love... right?
   His touch was a comfort to a fearful pain that I've only found in the purest of hearts. His eyes were the blue of a thousand periwinkle promises floating on a song of hope in the breeze of lands thereoff with mountains of love that castcade in turrets of multicolored paint and settle into a beautiful rainbow river on which we'd float and caress and love. We'd lay, eyes closed against the need to see- just feeling. trusting with our hearts: the protection the other had promised- letting the magnificent river that we felt rather than saw take us wherever the periwinkle breeze carried our frollicing souls as hand in hand we journy deeper and deeper into the caverns of eachother's dreams with just our flashlights and our love. If we fell- we fell together, eyes closed and lips dancing with the prominade of a masquerade ball that the presant dirty people lacking poetic insight call- a kiss.
   Forced appart for the time being my only hope is in the future and what it's unforgiving hands might bear on the cold gripping tundra of its corners that we peek from- fearing the outcome of such a peek but needing to see with a yarning that burns if the other was waiting for you to peek, so they can warm your cheek with a masquerade gift and you both can let go of the breath you'd been holding, waiting for the day that the ever consistant gray would lift in a veil of forgotten sad restraint and show you the light in the other one's eyes that you'd been missing for so long, trapped in the darkness by falsly protecting hands that swore against their lack of understanding their knowing of how horrible and unevenly a heart can break and leave one gasping and hoping for the others love drowning in a harsh unforgiving sea of hate, resentment and white walls with drying paint that you're driven to watch as the days turn to months turn to years...
   Dark poetry falls from my pen in horrid castcades of missery and my paper once happily unknowing is now drenched in my inky sadness forever forced to partake in my tragic story that no one should have to endure. Poor paper.
   He was my light in a dark word. A smile in my sea of frowns. My hope in a sea of promised failiur and my love in a heart so battered and worn that the touch of his hand meant a million smiles so ginuine that never before had the heart been so warm and it settled, feeling confident that nothing could come between it and the love that poured indlessly into its unsuspecting system and making it's tense sence relax with pure and utter unfarmiliar joy... Only to be ruthlessly ripped away with the cruel sorrow seeking hands of the ones who call themselves the protectors of the thing once so warm and happy and safe in the arms of their beloved- and now so cold locked away being treated for a disease that can only be cured with a medicine that they promise is poison. my love.
   So I wait- the cruel hands can only hold me so long- then the wings that you built me on a wave of self esteem that you enlessly lifted will fly me far far away and into your arms and forever you'll hold me safe as before, kissing my tears and parent inflicted sadness away. my love.