The One In My Dreams

Simply put, she's the most beautiful girl in all of the land. Seek as you may through this charming country's side, pp and over the hills of yellow (sometimes striped with black), down and around the winding rivers of stone -- the trees of the banks of which, with their arms outstretched towards one another's eerie glows of yellow, green, and red, form a canopy above. Their spindly, cold fingers, as much as they may stretch, will never make contact. What indestructible hope. As such, I have digressed. My focus is not on the unmoving trees, neither the frozen rivers, nor the golden charcoal hills of this foreign land. These all pale -- infinitely more so -- to the beauty and splendor of my Urban Princess. All others pale before her modest glow. Paint and easel in the most skilled of hands would do her no justice and the language of the wildest imagination could never even approach such eloquence or grace. She's the One in my dreams, the Temptress in my nightmares, the Wick in my candle, the Lightning in my storm, the Stitches in my wounds. She's my beautiful Eve. Will I confess upon her what she must surely know? No! I must guard my words. She mustn't know yet. Hold my tongue. Rest silent. If she's the blood in my veins, then she will have this sacred chamber all to herself. Here she will be safe from all harm and trouble, push and pull. Here she will stay and rest, refresh and cure. When she is ready, she will move forth, flowing into every part of me. Oh how I long for the day when my blood can course as freely as it had in times long past, in the Garden of Bliss.
Until that day, here I will lie in wait.

Note: I'm feeling all weird and fluffy inside right now and I hope that explains all this seemingly random bursting of words and thoughts. Enjoy, as you see fit.