• R. E. Maynard

Not Even a Million Miles Separates My Love’s Devotion


I barely know the epic depths of your adventurous heart, a heart which I sincerely hope to delve within deeply with sensibilities ingraining a committed spirit–hopefully shared likewise. Oh, how your wayward dreams somehow reach into my reflection for portraying every grateful moment remembered undeniably. As I live curiously with hope for the type of togetherness embracing our ever-newly awaken morrow’s dream come true.


History tells me that you have this superior beauty to bestow my appreciation–beauty itself defined. Arriving into your beautiful life, I do know unlimited smiles formed from ear to ear. I write kindly to you, dear. A desirable hope for learning all about a young lady’s desires intentionally leaves me feeling bold. The thoughts that I struggle well harbor these truest feelings of awareness, as every written desire spelling out love’s simple potentials in a freedom for expressing my heart honestly. I see through to each word deservingly.


My life’s reasoning for being so expressive lends to such written devotions adoringly to thee—for my musing ado, a wanderlust for meeting you someday soon compels me eagerly to travel to thee. The future shall certainly delight my heart with your loveliness atop my mindful notions. I speak of a mere million miles setting us far apart, even though each inch taken would surely leave us close enough to hug most welcoming. My feelings although curiously forbidden by relations known, or a separation currently dividing our worlds apart.

Blinking in moments where time leave visions of your face flickering over and over with the simplest things that you do adorably. I hope to fall into your lap and to realize a wonderful time even still impossibly hard to imagine. Nevertheless, I will do my part as your admirer to cherish you forevermore.

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R. E. Maynard 

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