Untitled Prose

I’m not sure what to call this piece… it’s like a long poem, but just structured in one long paragraph, no verses. At the top of the page, in the margin, she wrote this:

If in walking alone with only ghostly companions brought me to the turning of this very long yet indescriptive page to the next chapter I finally met a being whose touch incited responses in my skin, then the years of loneliness will be long since forgotten. The pathetic and uneventful years filled with people who owned no soul, possessed no personality, and offered me more nothing, will be as I saw them… ghosts. If I dare let my microcosm connect and form one with yours will it be like water droplets meeting on a leaf and running quickly away together? Or will it be like when two cars meet head on at an intersection and shatter the only world I’ve known? I believe the first when I saw two tears meet by your lip, come together, and slide away. You have this soothing way of diffusing any worry, any anguish, any anything. My own world filled with people you’d think of like you thought of your breath as it left your mouth… not even a first thought. But you are so different. You I think of like I’d think of my blood pouring unstoppably out of me… need and want that far surpasses the material, but is simply survival. You are like the thread for my wounds and my clothes… without you I would die naked. You are the direction in my life when I stray too far from centered in my mind. You are the delicate touch when it hurts and the hard hand when I want it to. You are half of the interlocking spines that line up and create the only true goodness God gave man… love.