Streaming together through oceans of warm colors that float through our transparent bodies. We gently glide through ribbon mirrors as the sun is eternally setting in the west, lighting our nostalgic paths with waves of overwhelming emotion, which drives us to search for a connection beyond these bruised knees and weary eyes.

My warm skin longs for its perfect other half, impatiently waiting while the sounds from another's lungs are sent through the air, being inhaled by us all while we surf through the reverberations of each other's heart beats.

Our eyes lock, but our mouths don't move, because there's no use for words when your souls are so intertwined that you can't even tell where your life begins or ends, because you have never lived without the other soul wholly connected to yours.

I closed my eyes, and in that moment the gaslight of my double calender summer went out with a cold breath. I could see and feel things that the baby boom generation never knew existed, but such pretty wisdom doesn't come without the complete package of the broken hearts of the romantic era.

Every night we head into the darkness, through glossy eyes, in an attempt to find unending redemption and unconditional love, but the only success we find is in the communion between two broken hearts in their attempt to mend each other.