Seems like I should be taking this all down. Taking notes on my life as if I'm watching from a far. Is this really me? Is this really happening? I want to be present. I want to participate. I want to jump up on my desk, arm waving high. But somehow I can't get through this screen. So here I sit.
The snow is hurling from the sky with frosty passion. The sky, almost dark. The streets lights have been turned on. It's time for transition.
I have been sleeping alone lately. Dreaming, fantasizing, about passionate nights. Pressed up against walls and tongue deep. My body yearning and writhing for your touch. I remember being lost in the deep pools of your eyes. Now I float passive, wishing desperately to sink in them once more. Kiss the shores, and dive in arms open once again.
I love you.
I want to scream that from roof tops. Scream and scream until the universe notices me. I am three years old all over again, begging for the attention of my love, the only way I know how.
I have seen you walk away from me. Felt my soul rip into pieces as you vanished. I pushed everything aside and created a space that is solely yours, and now it's a gap that I yearn to fill. It's you shaped, and I know that. But sometimes denial is a twisted form of survival.
From my heart to yours, this is me.
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In the moonlight she dances to the pale crimson rhythm that glides and slides in between the shadows. Her eyes slanted, her feet small and delicate, like a child's. She spins and tumbles her way to the river side, till her eyes meet her own.
The moon illuminates the dark glass and her hand dips into the blackness.
"Love", she said. "Show me love".
She waits with baited breath. Knees bent. Crouched down. From a distance she looks like a small animal, waiting to pounce or dive into the deep shallows.
But after a while, she looks more like a large stone by the river side, sturdy and fixed. Down trodden and tired after the anxiousness had worn off.
Patience, she thought.
Eventually the clouds part, and in the reflection of the water she sees the glimmer and faint shine of the stars.
She sees the outline of the trees, and feels the cool grass between her toes.
Patience.
But what is it to wait for love? What is it to dance under the stars, to bathe yourself in moonlight, and then to not know, not recognize the nature of your question.?
Love, show me love.
She closes her eyes then opens them anew. Her answer, found.
The moon illuminates the dark glass and her hand dips into the blackness.
"Love", she said. "Show me love".
She waits with baited breath. Knees bent. Crouched down. From a distance she looks like a small animal, waiting to pounce or dive into the deep shallows.
But after a while, she looks more like a large stone by the river side, sturdy and fixed. Down trodden and tired after the anxiousness had worn off.
Patience, she thought.
Eventually the clouds part, and in the reflection of the water she sees the glimmer and faint shine of the stars.
She sees the outline of the trees, and feels the cool grass between her toes.
Patience.
But what is it to wait for love? What is it to dance under the stars, to bathe yourself in moonlight, and then to not know, not recognize the nature of your question.?
Love, show me love.
She closes her eyes then opens them anew. Her answer, found.
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