lovers

Love life, live your best life.

Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.

I go towards him and put my hands on his face and I kiss him. __hat do you feel, Holden?__e looks into my eyes. __ou,_ he says. __ feel you.

used to see people in love . seeing them ,used to say -how heavenly it is ,they looks so happy in love. now i touched by love- and don't say the same .

Prayer is pouring your heart to the one you love.

You haunt my days and dreams.

She(my love) said to me, what's the matter with you?.......I replied.....'NOTHING

I went from this great depression to waking up next too the love of my life; the same man who silently gave me something to hold onto for nearly four years. That isn't even comprehendible but it is so beautiful and I am so proud to be his woman, fortress of strength and care. I couldn't walk away from that even if you paid me.

It seems to me that our lives are consumed by countless wasting years, but only a few shining moments. I missed mine. Yes is what I should have said. Of course I should have said yes.

I love you more. I love you enough to let you go and live your dream." I tilted my head and shrugged. "Don't you see....? I love you more."He smiled softly and I brushed some hair off his forehead. Running the backs of my fingers down his cheek, I whispered, "And, yes, I will miss you, more than you could possibly imagine, but I know that you have to do this Kellan. And you know it too."Stubbornly he shook his head. "No, I know that I have to be with you. Everything else is just .... details.

I remain someone of little consequence, as if nothing more than dandelion fluff caught on a breeze.

People can go on telling themselves things like __hink before you speak!_ or __ou don__ believe that yourself_ or __orget it!_ But they can also say, __h, what lovely flowers!_ or __re you a phone freak or something?_ or __uit yourself,_ or __his record makes me feel so happy!_ Wonderful! Words are delightful little gifts we exchange like the Easter eggs we paint and hide for others to find and enjoy. I__ forgotten that, but you reminded me of it.

The Temperature is RisingThe heartbeat quickens my breath is controlled,my senses are illuminated like a mother to her young. This feeling I have I've know it before, when the gates are opened I'll remember the beginning. Awaiting, dreaming imagining the endless possibilities of moments together as I give into my desires. My body reacts it has a mind of its own leaving little clues yet I continue on. Poised and professional I cross my origin the passion that awaits it stirs like a simmer. The sweet aroma a treat being made just for him I know he will like, the hunger in his eyes his mouth soft and strong it only took me a moment as he continued to look on. I didn't even recognize my sound as I was in a sphere all alone I hoped and imagined it would be but my mind was left in awe like sweet chocolate after a meal.

Words are whips in the wind traveling between lovers.

I like to think of books as lovers; you have to introduce yourself slowly to them, read them one page at a time. Notice them, appreciate them. Respect what they're trying to tell you, let their words caress you, then sink into you, and finally, become a part of you.

The words we read and words we write never say exactly what we mean. The people we love are never just as we desire them. The two symbola never perfectly match. Eros is in between.

There is no born lover, There is no born Don Juan, For we are all lovers.

I held Angie Luna in that room for hours, and I remember the different times we made love like epochs in a civilization, each movement and every touch, apex upon abyss. In the luxury of our bed, we tried every position and every angle. I explored the curves on her body and delighted in seeing the freedom of her ecstasy. Her desperate whispers and pleas. I told her I loved her, and she said she loved me too. We lay in bed with our limbs entangled, in a pacific silence that reminded me of existing on a beach just for the sake of such an existence. I couldn't imagine the world ever becoming better, and for some strange reason the thought slipped into my head that I had suddenly grown to be an old man because I could only hope to repeat, but never improve on, a night like this. I finally took her home sometime when the interstate was empty, and the bridges seemed to lead to nowhere, for they were desolate too.