We have been good friends. More than good.

I've always appreciated hanging out with you, watching TV with you, having fun with you. Every time I made you laugh, or just gave you a glimpse of happiness in your eyes, I thought: Could any heaven be more bright? Is there any possibility that this is now, and real? I've always considered our friendship like a sign of the good, the live in the human being. Like a rose, you have always filled our relationship with your genuine perception of human act, my act. As I have with you. When you needed company and support, I was on my way to your door. When I needed your hand to hold on to, you were already holding it. The combination of powerful rapport and caressing love. We're like two persons in one soul, though I can never realise how any person can possibly imagine my feelings for you.

I remember the first time we really spoke. Sitting next to you in a bus, where the trip would last for two hours, and still be the shortest ride of my life. Just being with you made me think what could happen between us, and so did you.

As we spoke, I received every second smooth like the drops of life's gentle rain. You entered like an angel from the sky, and the person of my life in a dream of reality. Touched by this beautiful approach, I would never let go of these moments. The Unheavenly Rain had entered my life.

I didn't notice what was happening with me at once. The night after this changing trip, I slept well without many thoughts of you, though they were somewhere in my head, somewhere in my life. However, the next day I couldn't resist looking into your eyes - I don't know why, maybe I was hoping to get a smile back, maybe a beautiful one.

As I tried to sleep that evening, the thought of you appeared. I touched your wonderful face - gently smoothing your soft eyebrows, carefully feeling your cheekbones, loving the tip of your nose and lips. Were you really for real? Sleepy memories of me being with you at night, holding your hands so tight - endless love. True.

The next days - weeks - months - I got so in touch with you. My intentions were never told to you - or anybody else - but I suspect you knew as you always do. And there was another thing, too; I didn't get much sleep because of you. These long, endless nights I started thinking about poetry, mainly with you in the start, but later it developed, and the main subjects of my writings became life, love and death, and the connection between them. Every night, I wrote poetry lying in my bed with a pen and my notebook, always with the thoughts of you. This is something that something I still do, and maybe always will. Your memories are like burned into my mind, and I'll never forget you, thank God Almighty for that, although I'm not Christian.

I'll always refer to you as a rose. Not that you look like one, neither that you act or smell like one, but there is something - maybe a spiritual essence or a psychic parallel between you and it - I can't really figure it out, and I believe I never will. And in an odd way, I feel sort of relieved that this is not what I want to happen, a relief that always will keep you intact like a divinity, a goddess and a rose. To me. Yet there is this holy divinity of a rose, that fills your heart with fire, and as this rose is in front of you, you'll still feel that it's not real, like a vision or an angel...

Still, you are struck by the beauty that springs out of its life, and shines so bright into yours. Always considering spending all time forever to look at it, you are always forced to proceed with your life, like a heaven torn from the sky, like a dream torn away by reality. Like a tragedy.

Another astonishing effect this beautiful rose makes to your life, is that the rose is something you cannot touch - it's forbidden. It's like an overwhelming morality that comes to your head and cannot be disturbed, like a child that you won't do any harm to, and just try to perfect its life and protect it from anything - everything. Also, there is this sensual attraction to it that will drive you crazy. You don't want to harm, but the love connects you to the rose, and it comes to the point where you just can't resist it anymore. You still love hanging out with her, watching TV with her and having fun with her. But now, you want to love her so badly that it hurts.

At this point you must make the important decision - maybe the most important of your life. To tell her how you feel, to tell her that you love her more that a life could possibly love its nature. Where life or death doesn't matter, as far as there is love, and that the love is you, the beautiful rose. My Rose.

As I know myself, this is it. The End of a search for a partner to share my life with, The End of everything that stand, of you as friend. However, this is The Start of a new age, a new time where my heart have turned out to be you, a new age of love, devotion and most important, giving.

I know that you are the one, the only one, to come with me to the mysticism of the bower garden. To spend an eternity of life in sacred harmony, in the ancient land of flowers and trees, with water of love rolling by in rivers to lakes. In a new ancient peaceful world, warm of life to the chilly airy heights. And as life are turned into love, love will again turn into life if you will believe in me.

Like I love you.

As a reader, you can ask yourself if this is true, or if it's more like a rebirth of an old love-story. Honestly, this is like an endless love that cannot be written with words or sentences, it cannot describe how much I love her face, or why I do. But a word is a soul of a meaning, and so I hope that you can understand the soul of this story.

This is a dream of a rose, and dreams are based on reality, and love. Like this is my dream, this is also my life.