hate them, wish they would die or
know that you would die without them ...
it matters not. Because once in your life,
whatever they were to the world
they become everything to you.
When you look them in the eyes,
traveling to the depths of their souls
and you say a million things without trace of
a sound, you know that your own life
is inevitable consumed within
the rhythmic beatings of her very heart.
We love them for a million reasons,
No paper would do it justice.
It is a thing not of the mind
but of the heart. A feeling. Only felt.