To Whom it May Concern

There is a perfect timing for everything.

This is my catharsis. This is my pandemonium. This is my bonafide declaration, if you please:

Anything memorable in life attaches itself to an idealized point.

It’s all in the timing; a perfect moment serving as an aperture into the human soul.

Will ours ever arrive? Or has it been abandoned?

I looked to the east for answers; to the west for comfort. Perhaps it’s best to remain in the twilight zone, because my heart careens steadily. I’m like a lush in the realm of oblivion. I’m drunk in love.

Red red wine, help me forget.

I suffered from your knowing eyes. Every time I fell into them I redefined masochism. Your searching fingertips blistered my skin; your lips shivered my mind to the breaking point. Those piquant memories haunt my taste buds. I am parched and ravenous.

Resuscitate me, only so I can taste them again. Withdrawal symptoms ignited: I am an addict.

I’ll return the favor, my darling.

The day that time dies, remember me. You’ll hear music playing along the stars: it's the melody of our thoughts; confessions of the here and now.

I’ll be at the coda; the pinnacle point.

That’s where you’ll find me. We’ll disappear into the harmony; our love becoming perfectly timeless.