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How well screwed up is life and the things in it?

I can't believe the love of my life and soul stares at me across a field,A busy street, a party, at church and I can't go there. Not right there where they are, without the rue of situations past that, have consequentially, rendered something so beautiful and as pure as it it's tainted; passionate as it is deep as a mute and incomprehensible ineligibility.

I could have had the grand kind the kind to end all kinds. Instead, I settled with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my gut, that I wasn't worth waiting for.

The stars were so cruel. As with all things that glitter, twinkle or shine like your eyes,they seer souls and play favourites. Not that I didn't do well. I did very well, I didn't do deep. Like the kind of deep that travels between our eyes, the kind of heart reverberation that goes beyond soul. I did very well. I am loved and I love; but, there is that chasm sometimes just a shoulder brush away. Always a millimetre times a billion eons away, so close no matter how far, So far no matter how close, all the miracles in the world can't solve it. The devils got his last laugh, and I my last hope. This afterlife better hold its promise, I don't want to face another endless age without you. Its so fucked up.

Still, it's perfect in all it's fucked-upness. It has lasted this mortal realm far longer than most could ever fathom, and I am perfectly content in it as long as the deep still passes through our eyes across a field, at church, a party or across the street.