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Tip of My Tongue

since the day I met you,
I have searched for this word. this big, beautiful, gigantic, glorious word to describe you. us.
I am incapable of such a feat. 
the weight which we hold defines and transcribes over and over which was born yet never fails
to die. I am alone to carry the burden.
kismet. but yet more than fate. 
in Moirai white robed souls threads spun from the gods alone do not touch the etymology of us.
Saudade by José Ferraz de Almeida Jr.
saudade. other words bearing no translation its meaning too sacred for a tongue. I remember you. 
you recollect me. 
mutual longing to never return. but you're still here, aren't you? always here. somehow
becoming the intrusiveness of my dreams
dust on wrinkled photographs and cologne from triggered memories. in and out of me. through me. So I seek another word. perhaps hiraeth. homesickness for a place you cannot return to. 
and over and over in my mind this word, this beautiful, gigantic, glorious word that cannot be described but only felt can only be seen as love. 
for I will love you from the beginning
until the end. 
it's as simple as that.

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