Sometimes

e.e. cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near
 your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
 or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending;
 nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing
 (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

infinite mercy

i want to give all thats inside of my heart, to You.

because You are more than anything i could think to compare You to.

and You know everything.

so why would i ever try to trust anything else ?

!

downpour rain

wash away

all mistakes

flower pedals up the hill

done striving

swirling into something else.

the letter a never looked the same with you