A/N: For the Life of Your OTP Competition, round one.
.
"Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning."
.
You find her by the Lake,
d.r.e.a.m.y.
eyes watching the
orangeyellowpink
of sunrise
dance
over the ripples.
The war[pain]fear is
over
and you can
b-r-e-a-t-h-e
again,
or you can
trytrytry.
She's always had a way
of leaving you
breathless,
((grasping))
for words you cannot
speak,
things you can only
explain
with [ink] and [canvas]
because she is a
masterpiece.
But now those words,
those things you've kept
/hid/den/
F
A
L
L
from your lips.
She is pale beauty,
worthy of more
(more than anything
you
could ever give)
but you still dream.
And you tell her
e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.
your words
trembling/shaking/weak
as they
escape
from the open window
of your
heart.
You know words can never
(c)(o)(v)(e)(r)
it all,
can never do it justice.
But still the words
fallfallfall
until there's
_nothing_
left.
And she's silent,
and fear
(sickening, acidic fear)
grips your heart,
suffocatingkilling
you
s..l..o..w[ly].
She says she's
neverever
thought of
l-o-v-e
as more than a word
((nouns and verbs
lacking meaning,
lacking logic)).
She says she doesn't
_under_stand_
doesn't know.
But she likes
the way it
s-s-sounds
on your stuttering tongue,
likes the pictures you
-paint-
with
trem/bling
words
that give meaning to
a word
(love, love,
it's always been
love)
that makes no sense.