i still wait for you.

adagio.

have you ever listened to a piece of music, or looked at art on the street or in a museum? your heart moving to the rhythm of the music and your eyes immediately falling in love with what you see, twirling in the music like it's the last thing you'll hear, staring at the art like you've never seen anything better, so beautiful that it trances all the sounds in the world into a silence. i don't deny, i've listened to music that does this. i've seen art that's done this. more than one, more than once. i've thought about the earth stopping it's sounds to be quiet enough to hear the music, i've thought about everyone stopping in their tracks to see the art. there's something about "slow" that you're somehow able to give me. something about "quiet" that you're able to fathom. there's something about "fast", "bass", and "treble". "vocals", "beats", "colors" and "art". crossing over, intertwining, harmonizing, lifting to the point to where we no longer exist. that somehow you were able to see, for me. i've fallen in love with more than one, more than once. in ways you might not be able to fathom. they were kinds of love because the two hands fit perfectly together and you feel like you can't let go, because it's just like you're two puzzle pieces who can fit perfectly together, like it was just molded for each other. was it a kind of love that hurts to breathe when you lose them? or a kind of love that fills your heart with anxiety when you lay alone in bed at night? a love that you hold onto no matter what, leaving you with a single breath that always ran out yet every time you always trusted it, you laugh because you fell for it again? you don't really understand why, but you lost the courage to try once more. you can't find the courage, the ability, the anything at all, to try. to try to fall in love with someone else. fall in love with more than one, more than once.