trulybelewa

As she wrote and as the music kissed her ears, she let her hand free to remember how it felt to  roam,touch and tease paper and a smile gently toyed with her lips.

This truly was a feeling she knew could not be evoked by anything or anyone else…

Just like how each love is different yet the lover is the same…or is it? For each time lovers connect emotionally, their souls speak to each other in whispers that the mind and ear cannot understand..each lover having their own print..thus each time you face him, on your face, skin and being lingers the timbre of those you’d let touch your heart..and yet he lets that annoying tenant he hosts in his heart and spoils like a mistress, with a name so vile, Jealous, come to the surface…forgetting that he also reeks of his past. That as they both stand…

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