Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Rebirth into Deity

The cold morning air lulled me from sleep as the memory of your kisses on my skin played against the back of my eyelids. It's a pastel sunrise here. Pretty enough to notice but muted enough as to inspire little in the way of passion, shy enough to go unnoticed as we begin the rush of day.

I miss you.

As I miss the blazing sunrises of so many other places I've been, I miss you and the inspiration, the passion you flared in me.

It is a dangerous business, life, even more so when lived with purpose and passion. Even harder when worth living.

And I'm still missing you. My skin still burns with the sense of your touch, as if I were the earth warmed by the intensity of the light shown down upon me through the eyes of the sun in our little part of the universe.

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