i. for love is a strong word and never have I stopped questioning its existence,

who knows that the might of the non-existent can mean much more than its presence

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of waiting for my curtain to blow,

if my wait is worth the cease of my sorrow

ii. by the time the wind goes through my neck, her kisses rain on me―

and by the time I give out a beck, she lays her head on my knee,

though I can’t frame her in their actuality,

she’ll always be the best part of my reality