freck-le n. a small brownish spot on the skin, often turning darker or increasing in number upon exposure to the sun.

1.

I can hardly explain what you make me feel. If I could catch it in a jar and give it to you as a present, I'm not sure if I would. I understood early on that every part of me is something made perfect in the eyes of someone not yet seen. This pre-determined soul lies deep within the shadows of the unknown of my mentality. Slowly, the likeness of his profile becomes apparent. He'll take what's left of my war-torn sentiment, battered and threadbare, and hold it in the palm of his hands and fully heal it. Only to feel the love I hold, after he slowly flays the burned blotches left from those whom breached my heartstrings and left them to rot. 

"And we peeled the freckles from our shoulders..."

hope v. to look forward with desire and reasonable confidence; to believe, or trust.

2. 

I shivered, twice. Cold-blooded am I with trembling, frigid fingers that fumble lightly as they glide. The air is not warm, but neither does it bite. Like a purr of bumblebees, it flits and flees with no thoughts to that which it passes. The stars are lustrous and more beautiful when I am lounging beside your snug figure. Show me how to breathe easy. Teach me where to go from here. Your sweet eyes continuously ease my doubts. If I hand you my little heart, will you be there to show me affection? Could you decipher my troublesome mind? Would you show me how to live without troubles and hesitation?

"Believe there's gonna be love in all your pain..."

always adv. at all times; invariably; for all time; forever.

3.

I'm not pushing; I'm not pulling. I'm not reeling; I'm not straining. What I am doing is wishing you were here. Time easily becomes a figment of imagination when you stand next to me. It only happens involuntarily and I just wish I could canonize it and put it in a few pages. For the safety of my sanity, I can smile in wonder at the possibility that you duplicate my current condition. For love, while intangible, is not yet a figment of imagination, nor an idea. Love is true, real, and solid. As a rock sits on the ground, love lives in the air. The rocks may one day cry out just as the wind talks to us now, in whispers and whistles in the language of Providence. 

"The world has lost her way again, but you are here with me..."