My heart comes undone.
Slowly unravels
In a ball of yarn.
The devil collects it
With a grin,
Our love,
In a ball of yarn.
He'll never return it.
So when you come back
We'll have to make new love.
" We're always going different, if not opposite, directions. Yet we always find a way. Trainstation romance we can call it. I love it. And you. Most of the time."
" Dear,
I found how different our ways of loving can really be, and I know that sometimes we are not in harmony, like the food we're never sharing. But I really want to give this a chance. While we may seem like perfect strangers down the line, lovers out of time, I would like to learn to love one the way they like to be loved. And maybe that would come the other way around too. Love would flow with milk and honey then, dancing like a hungry moonchild in the shallows of a river. Until then, we can spend the occasional time together, finding playing cards on empty streets, diamonds, aces, kings of hearts and what not. I hope that nobody out there throws them at us in a shuffled order, for I would hate to think we're part of a gamble. You think I have no cause. But if you could find within yourself to let me, I would hold the hand of your mind, calling you forward, never leaving you behind. My thoughts fly to catching the next train. I'll be old by then, and wait for you by the sunset. Please be there. I think of you often, and hope we see each other as soon as possible. Until such time may the winds be at your back, the dice be kind, and the Gods turn the occasional blind eye.
Sincerely yours, beyond the clouds, beyond the sun,
the rebel without a cause. "
