A sentimental fool.

Classical
romantic love
is fiction
is fact
is illusion
and concretion.

It's not in books, movies and songs.
It's the fruit of our hands,
our lips,
our minds.

It's not what we read,
but which we build
through yearning unexplained,
through howls in the night,
seeking an answer.

The friendship without bounds in the giving,
and to be grateful for the gifts.

It's thirst unslakable,
hunger insatiable,
contented sleep
when it decides to come,
awareness like I never knew.