This is what late nights of writing look like.
Everything seems so desolate, like the leafless trees in the dead of winter, when there is no current contact. It's like I'm waiting in the dark for just a spark of light. Your voice on repeat in my head, my eyes longing for yours to make contact with mine. The big grin you always give me when you see me is engraved into my mind, and your name carved deep into my heart. How foolish was I to allow this to come to a halt? I dug myself into this hole, now trying to make my way out and back into your heart. Your name was never one I tried to erase, like so many others before. You were always the constant, always permanent. Everything of yourself that you have given me, has painted my heart into a beautiful canvas, unlike the others who only left ugly stains which are slowly being washed out. That's how I always knew you were supposed to be in my life, when God allowed you to paint me a beautiful picture, unmatched by anyone else other than He Himself. Now I can only attempt to paint with words what it is I feel for you, hoping my actions will be enough, shall I be given another chance. Our Father is still painting His masterpiece of my life, and it's beauty, I await.