Once long ago in her world a sunny day in spring was her favorite but now a sunny day in winter delights her more. It is the perfect metaphor for their love.Sunshine on ice.She warms his frost. He cools her fever.

Although love could grow in times of peace it tempered in battle. Daddy told me once - when Id said something about how perfect his relationship with Mom was - that I should have seen the first five years of their marriage that theyd fought like hellions crashed into each other like two giant stones. That eventually theyd eroded each other into the perfect fit become a single wall nestled into each others curves and hollows her strengths chinking his weaknesses her weaknesses reinforced by his strengths.

Dying is overrated. Human sentimentality has twisted it into the ultimate act of love. Biggest load of bullshit in the world. Dying for someone isnt the hard thing. The man that dies escapes. Plain and simple. Game over. End of pain...Try living for someone. Through it all-good bad thick thin joy suffering. Thats the hard thing.

One day you will kiss a man you cant breathe without and find that breath is of little consequence.

I dont know where dreams come from. Sometimes I wonder if theyre genetic memories or messages from something divine. Warnings perhaps. Maybe we do come with an instruction booklet but were too dense to read it because weve dismissed it as the irrational waste product of the rational mind. Sometimes I think all the answers we need are buried in our slumbering subconscious int he dreaming. The booklet right there and ever night when we lay our heads down on the pillow it flips open. The wise read it heed it. The rest of us try as hard as we can upon awakening to forget any disturbing revelations we might have found there.