In the time between, I’ve only words, clumsy creatures, falling over face-first, imprecise instruments, incapable of symphony. Still, I wish you might know how I feel, even if diminished by the bludgeon of words.
While neither can be fully conveyed by herald, truth and love, symbiotic, are of the same atmosphere, breathing of each other. Both taken deep into our lungs as well– they are the air we breathe, to live, they are the unspoken things, given and taken, exchanged freely between souls, in the space between a gaze.
I had missed the love I see in your eyes. I had missed your truth. I had missed your entirety.