I fell in love once, only once. I fell in love with the crooks in his teeth and the freckles on his cheeks. If fell in love with how he made me a dreamer, how he made me a heartbreak dreamer. He was the beacon of sunlight to my seemingly thundrous horizon. He was, for a time, an omnipresent thought in my every moment. He was the inspiration to my teeming brain. He was my male muse. I say was, because he is mine no longer. His heart was kidnapped by a lovely girl who saw less good in him than I did, then I do. He must love the alignment of her eyebrows more than my definite laugh lines. He must love her perfect composure more than my deep brown eyes. He must love the way that she walked into his life more than the way he walked out of mine. My gaze intertwines with his every now and then, and there is still a certain magic that is created inside of me everytime I am so lucky to hold his gaze. They say good things don't last, that all good things come to an end. I would just like to know why it is that even though it's been over for years now, my soul still erupts at the mere thought of him. Even as aggregious as a grammatical error as it is, it is true when The Fray said it, Love Don't Die.