Beauty And The Beast

I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about my lover and the affair we shared so intensely and deeply, all those years ago... rejected for years, she has sat in a dusty corner. Untouched and untamed. I miss the way my fingertips danced along her neck and how my thumb pressed firmly against her spine... my other hand slapping gently against her delicate curves in rhythm as our souls spiraled into endless ecstasy. The way she sang and echoed sweet sounds in the rooms... as my fingertips tickled and tugged her heart strings. Feelings I've never felt since, nor do I dare I shall ever feel again... even in my limited understanding of emotions and vibrations, I knew this must be love. The days of love now gone, and the sorrow that I felt as I locked her out off my life... living life through distant memories.We'd make love for hours on end, until we body shook in weariness and utter fatigue... never once did she shudder away, but stayed faithfully in the moment. Those precious moments ended as I clutched my chest and ripped my heart out... the intensity had grown too strong and I couldn't bear the emotions stirring inside. I needed to hide and run away from the only love I've ever known... now aging in my room, filled with regret I weep. My lost love, my inability to continue those timeless moments... stripped away by the very hand that i trusted most. They say it was for the best, that all things happen for a reason... we grow and strengthen over time. I snarl at those words of fools... knowing love once and to never know it again is a hell endless in torment. Even though time is cruel and we can never go back and undo those moments we regret... time has a funny way of turning itself around and changing hearts. I saw her today and without word I approached her and took her gently into my arms and warming embrace. I needed to cry and release these unknown and complicated emotions... I laid my head softly against her cool, tender, body and shivered in fear. All those things I wanted to feel again were now foreign and distanced... we couldn't go back, but we could remember. On looking eyes wouldn't see the sorrow and regret, nor the love we once shared... it would look commonplace to those separate from this experience. She is without name, and without face... just pressed wood and hand framed body. To others just an old, worn guitar... but to me, the love of my life. Those passionate webbings once spun, now only exist in memory and time... never to felt again.