I miss you.

I miss you so much, my love, my dear, my heart.

Although I know that I am being grossly cheesy, those are the right words for now.

I cannot overemphasize that I miss you in my bed every night.

Perhaps project week has only made things worse.

Doomed us to eternal pains in our heart as we have tasted pleasures that will most likely never be permitted.

Dull ache grips me in my heart tonight love.

Not your fault, do not fret.

Only my soul resonates sadly tonight longing for you,

but perhaps that is asking for too much.

I miss your hands,

how they feel in my hand as we walked along many streets,

how it used to make me feel so proud and happy in my heart,

filling it up with desires to shout out to the world

'this is my girlfriend'

I miss your eyes,

how they look at you with understandings that

even the oldest friend sometimes cannot offer,

how they arch down slightly on the sides as they express happiness,

how your eyes shine as I looked at your closed and open eyes while we are kissing.

I miss your voice,

it is not husky yet it is not high and melodious

if i were to comment on it,

I would have to say you have a very boyish voice

Your voice brings life to meanings that words spoken normally do not have.

I miss your hugs,

how your hands will softly trail up my neck,

how your arms firmly held me close to you,

you try to hug me tighter than I, but that doesn't work,

But you hug me with passion that surpasses anything,

seeping though the cold mask of a queen.

I miss your kisses,

when we shared one secretly so that we may not disturb other people and

cherish every second of it,

they are brief, sometimes no more than a peck,

a brush of your lips against my own,

moistening the cracked lips like mother nature does drought-stricken land.

sometimes they may be slightly longer,

passionate discoveries as we delve deeper into each other,

as we almost merge ourselves together, joined at various points of our body.

We ourselves stay in secret,

our secret dance hidden in a ballroom as large as the world yet no one can see,

we precariously dance; I am fire and you are gunpowder,

or I am fire and you are water,

or I may even be a heart and you the knife,

dancing precariously close;

we know our dances will end in possible tragedies.

Yet your kisses are too irresistible,

lips too good to ignore;

and to see your hand is for me to grab them in both hands and kiss it,

to see you turning your back to me means I am strongly urged to hug you from behind, cradling you to my chest.

We are dancing; some times so close that we touch,

yet we pull away again,

exerting tremendous self controls.

Perhaps one day we will not have to fear anything but us.

But love, that is already very risky.

Don't fret, I am here; the risk will be gone by then.

The gunpowder then would be too wet to actually explode,

the knife rusted,

and fire hot enough to stay lit,

like magnesium does underwater.

Don't fret dear, I am here.

One day.

That requires time I'm afraid, and the time we may or may not have.

We do not need to fear;

the time brings with it its promised gift to all;

the end.

but it also brings with it its hectic promises;

twists in fate,

changes in destinies,

and most importantly,

the opportunity and the ability to change our future.

So please my dearest

open your heart to me.

If only you knew how desperately

I wanted to hold you,

comfort you,

offer you my shirt to wipe your tears,

and shoulder or chest to lean against.

Don't fret dear, I am here.