Memories of touch, of swaying bodies beneath flashing lights. These are the days that make us burn with fury. Wild delight through sensation. To feel that girl within my hands. Oh, but she was never just a girl, and she was more than just a woman. Curves and heated scent. Freedom of thought, and the footsteps of history upon that dress of hers. You could get lost in those eyes. The way she applied her make-up. The way she would lay there sleeping in the early hours. Tender and silent, she was an angel while I was a demon. She consumed me with her truth. The nature of her intimacy. The colours of her melancholy, always shining with not one ounce of shame. Keep them close, and never let them go. Remember these words, and never let them be forgotten. Words help. The urge to put right all my wrongs. To make up for staying silent for so long. Emotions and memories must be kept fresh. Pain and pleasure, never to be taken for granted. Communication. Honesty. Fearful of the future, but not of the past. Hatred for my enemies, but only love for the ones who have touched my soul. It’s a dark soul. Beer-battered and sullen for sure. But it’s felt many highs, and they demand respect. Every moment of joy, never to be forgotten. All my hopes and dreams saved from abandonment. Loss is not failure; it’s an opportunity for a new way of seeing things. Vision. To take control, and to make amends for all those missed chances. Not sad, but ripe with wonder. Alive with imagination and compassion. The horrors of the world can’t be stopped. Suffering is mankind’s birthright. Yet my heart yearns for softness. For a feeling that never ends.