It never ceases to amaze me how easy it is to miss a person. For all intent and purpose, and for all the voices of reason that keep such close watch over the inner workings of love and trust, there is always one that disagrees. It's the voice of regret; the little voice that's there to remind me your happiness is not a conscious decision that can be bought with a promise to love you.
In battle, there are no winners, there are no grand ceremonies to celebrate victory, and there is no soldier unaffected by the cruelty of his actions. Each fights for himself, fighting the reflection of his own heart as he tries so hard to see it in the hands of the other. On so many levels, love is a joint decision. A treaty of peace to mark mutual respect, and an agreement to honour the boundaries between what is claimed and what runs free.
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