i wonder if i knew what love was before you, did i really know? or was the universe teaching me this whole time, knowing that i was destined to fall for you like rain sweeping down over the mountains side, whispering to the earth, caressing it like a lover. i dont know that i have ever loved, anyone, the way that i find myseld loving you now. you are the mountain, and i am the rain.
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ache
the ache to feel your skin under my fingers, temporarily soothed by your presence you pour yourself out to me, an overflowing pitcher of emotions. i see what it means to be human; to be raw and real and open, vulnerable and naked and i have never loved you more than in that moment.
choosing.
i love you. however irrational it may seem, but love is more than a feeling. infatuation, delight, warmth - those are good and wonderful, but love is also a choice. to love is to be patient, and to be kind. love is grace in place of anger. it is intentional. so, yes, perhaps it seems insane or questionable or a lot of things, but i love you all the same.
silence.
does your soul know that i love you, even if your mind does not?
gray.
gray eyes, soft like a old sweatshirt you wear to football games and for curling up on the couch in the rain. gray like the rain falling from the sky warm like the sun, shining on top of a mountain just before noon. gray the haze over the sea, wispy fog drifting through the overpass gray like the softest parts of the night. gray has never been so beautiful to me.
trifle.
i parked my car in the driveway,
but i didn’t leave room for your truck.
i swept my floor, because it was dirty.
i did my dishes, because i needed to.
i showered.
shaved my legs.
lotioned.
i like lotion, i tell myself.
i cleaned the toilet, and the sink.
for myself, i lie.
at least when i am sad, in an hour,
when you don’t show up, again,
at least my space will be a comforting space.
i didn’t match my shirt to my pants.
i didn’t change the sheets. yet.
maybe i should.
for myself, you know.
i wonder how long i should be graceful,
in this mysterious calamity that has befallen me.
somedays i want to be the volcano
burying you with my fury,
burning you with the anger,
but instead i am nothing more than
a mild breeze trifling through the leaves.
fuck.
hot-headed, angry, rude, sarcastic that's how they see me. fuck, i say. a lot. the thoughts inside my head are too big to be confined inside a tiny bone bowl.
ash
sometimes i do not want to be strong. i do not want to be the tree, flexing and bending in the hurricane. i want to be the angry fire, burning through forests and homes and scorching the earth. but we are who we are, so i will be the tree rising from the ash.
wait.
it has been too long since you have been in my bed - my soul craves you like the ocean is drawn to the sand you are the moon pulling me in waves, out to sea i go, with only the stars in your eyes to guide me, too long, since i have felt my feet on the shore, it is no matter, i will wait.
drift
you say ill show you mine if you show me yours and this is the language we speak drifting intimately through the universe.
