4:27 in the afternoon. Hotel lobby the size of a ballroom; all it needs is a chandelier, and you and me to waltz the marble floor…

Inside these silent-murmuring walls, with each heavy thud of my heart, the ache of blissful-lonely longing (my desire for your commanding presence) grows stronger, blocking out the sounds of inconsequential questions, and statements that serve more to annoy than to bring distraction; the young that do not (and, regardless of age, never will) comprehend or understand this reclusion, the sinking into the depths of my tempest-tossed waves of thought created by the wandering winds of the knowledge that (somehow) you love me, and that I (also somehow) find myself so deeply loving you. The opening and closing of the automatic doors as people (attired so perfectly for wherever they are rushing to) allows momentarily brilliant flashes of summer sun, brutally warm, to enter the lobby; A light source I would rather be hidden behind clouds, but gently (in its painful gleaming) filtering through my brain, reminding me of the last message you sent me, the chat box blinking orange to alert me of your words, professions of love, and I hold the memory a moment, my heart smiling.