Her eyes were glued on life and they were full of tears.

It was the kind of terrified look that reminds you that no matter how rational or grown-up she might seem, part of her is absolutely sure that an evil, other world exists just outside of her own regular everyday world. And that although she doesn't expect that world to collide with her calm, predictable one, she knows that really at any moment, that's exactly what might happen.

There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it. We are all searching for someone whose demons play well with ours. And oh what a curse it will be if you ever do find that person. Life won't make it easy for you, I promise. But my friend, a curse isn't always bad. At least you found someone who is worth missing. And she misses him with all her soul. It's a beautiful tragedy. But sometimes people get lucky. Sometimes the universe fights for souls to be together. Some things are too strange and too strong to be coincidences.

She finds comfort in knowing that at least they are under the same sky- to know that the sun is shinning upon his face, brightening up his days, and the moon and stars are there in the night, showing him that there is hope for them. Because the moon is a reminder of the time they fell in love under it. And the sky knows how much she misses him by her side right now. Distance has become a part of her life. She has found some joy in it whether it be from a good long view towards the sunset, or a certain soft hour at home, towards an empty intersection.

If she got a glimpse of something more it would be the way the hills blurred off into blueness beyond the last of the flashing roofs. She would feel small then, and in a way she found comfort. That's the thing about distance: it's not for the weak or the feeble. Deciding to dance with distance means loving someone enough to throw caution at the wind. It's drinking a cup on sadness every morning when you get up for your day, and drinking another to let it seep into your dreams. It's loving them enough to need to find a way.

Some things, and some people are written in your soul with permanent ink. And if love be madness, she never wants to find sanity again. His love is like religion, across in Mexico. And his kiss is like the innocence of a prayer nailed to a door. She sees him everywhere. Some do drugs, others go for a run. But at the end we're all just searching for that tiny space, perhaps a hole, that gives us shelter from the terrible reality of the world. The sea is accused of murder when it rises too high. But can't you see?

All it's trying to do is the kiss the moon. People despise the colder weather that bites at their skin where their clothing just cannot seem to reach, while others beg for relief from the heat.

There are few things in life so beautiful they hurt- swimming in the ocean while it rains, reading alone in empty libraries, the sea of stars that appear when you're miles away from the lights of the city, bars after 2 A.M- all the things we do not know about the universe. And then to her, him.

To her, he was the opalescent ocean, an enticing invitation waiting to swallow her whole. She dipped her toes.

He was the cold summer sea, the abundant refreshing kisses on her hot and sticky skin. She immersed her body.

He was the raging rivers, the rip-roaring current whose intention was to engulf her soul. She surrendered control.

He may not be in all of her todays, but he will be in all of her tomorrows. It's a shame about the weather, but soon they'll be together. And she cannot wait until then.