You tried to ignore me, but I pulled you by the hand, like the moon pulled the tide and the tide pulled the sand. Our fingers locked together, similar to puzzle pieces, and I knew this was right. Your stormy eyes told me that it was ok. They told me that something amazing was imminent. I knew this was it. It was now or never, and we walked together. You. And me. You should know, that when you want to make a change, you have to take a chance. Stop making excuses. Stop worrying. Take a chance and make it happen. I did. Now its your turn.

By ronnie, November 5, 2014.

I imagine you there, bathed in the sunlight filtered through the leaves, sitting in the deep, verdant and uniform green grass against the gnarled trunk of the old oak. With every gust of wind the grass grew in tussocks and flattened again; your hair flowed out to one side like a black-and-white movie; and your skirt billowed teasingly and playfully. You'd be wearing simple clothing: a sleeveless white blouse with lace interwoven, and a black circle skirt that ended a couple of inches above the knee. You'd be as 'you' as possible, with all your graces and your imperfections, your hopes and your inhibitions. You'd have every freckle you hate and every scar you feel ashamed of. And yet you'd still be beautiful, a perfect example of perfect asymmetry. With the ambient sound of wind sighing against wind and grass rustling against grass, you'd open your cherry lips ever so slightly.

"I love you."

By petelephant, December 28, 2014.

I have medium length dark brown hair and thick eyebrows arching over tired hazel eyes, laced with short stubby lashes. My cheeks are dappled with many hues of brown, freckles, as chaotic as the fall leaves.

By purplecompton, December 28, 2014.