And he'd stare her down, look her right in the soul and mutter these words that were his silent prayer.
"I know I loved you like the swan who bathed in sunlight before starry nights would discover secrets and I know I loved you like the heart of a hummoingbird that danced to the beat of silent hope. I know I loved you like the perfect window in that broken and worn out cottage that stands lonesome in the woods, like the crackpot of an elderly man who said my eyes sparkle. I know I loved you like an intimate summer's day that smelt like autumn leaves and lavender and I know I loved you like your hair under the moonlit night that we spent waving away every tragedy that ever was. And I know I loved you like the red roses tired of the tight grip exerted by nervous cold fingers, each time a date on the calendar was crossed out with a disappointed sigh.
Believe me when I say, I know I loved you like the million times I never said it. "
And meanwhile she sits a hundred miles away, dirty blond hair hiding every line on her face that held a story to be told, every inch of her skin that burned with the blurred fragments of happy endings that belonged to lost fairytales. Bittersweet, she sits gracefully.
Innocent, gentle, perfection.