He

He was a strong gust of wind that had barley brushed up against the bridge of my nose. His presence sent a shiver down my spine. Normally my brain would command to close myself off but my heart somehow slowly convinced me to open my doors a little bit wider. When his eyes met mine I grew uneasy but drawn so much closer. A clatter of emotions collected within me, rattling my bones and clenching my breath. I let him explore my soul. He opened past my cover page. He dusted off the fossils that lay deep under the thin layer of fresh soil a top of my dead and crumbled crust. He may have known me better than I know myself. He wasn't perfect, in fact, possibly almost completely imperfect. Though his oddness shown like a beacon on the highest hill. It brightened my day and welcomed me to sit by its warmth. But I grew up behind a white picket fence and he grew up, free-spirited in the fields. I spoke behind a pare of spectacles and broke the glass with his voice. I knew the inevitable end, I knew the hello would result in goodbye. But I had hope, I had hope that somehow Father Time would answer my prayers... but who do you turn to when you don't have any higher power to answer to your fears? It's be nice... just this once... for things to fall into place as we all may dream of.