I dreamt of the time I spent in the womb of protection, coated in the thought that no one could touch the paper held to my chest in an earnest grasp. No, no one understood. For but a few simple words and one faded picture and there was nothing left to be shown of the moments when my hand was not alone in holding onto a hope of more. More.
A word containing the meaning of something beyond the norm in regards to the notion of love, of lust, of opening oneself to the possibility of sharing everything they are. But alas, it is never as simple as an exchange and a kiss; as a hug and an everlasting notion of forever.