Now let's talk about last night.
Are there words yet, again? Cause I only remember colors and I, -haha- can't stop the smile at the turn of every unrelated thought.
It's all "just happy thoughts" blended at night. It's all the best I've ever seen of you, who you are, and what's formed together behind that handsome face.
I should get it together. I should start organizing back to cool factor - I should ready for the time between again... with vague metaphors and work around distractions.
But if all I ever say right, are a few words of this space, then I've done a goodness to the future. To the heart, and all it has ahead; unknown.
Let's remember how we slept,
where we placed one another in movements
- and what the morning sounded like.
Let's meet at the top of something, or say something like that... But ya know, wherever it goes doesn't matter for now - cause for nights ahead I'll sigh asleep thinking of that memory. I'll see it on the seas, I'll hear it in the rhythm, and I'll think of you that way.
Because I laugh at all the ways you just exist, and you never quite get my joke. But we walk through city after city with everything to say and no way to choose.
So lead where to follow, or look at me with that happy goodbye - it'll all work out either way.
For now, this morning in your arms will be my happy place for all of what I can see onward, into summer.
. . .
4/16/18
How's that for destiny
It's gone now. The last shadows of the darkness, the last tiny corners of the bad - I feel so sweet - it's been healed.
That was it, and a whole story more. (Later.) But let's take a moment for the equal balance found. The dreamily, romantically, lived opposite of all the pain of another woman who I was. Here, there were,- are- open hearts, kind soft touch and hours long expression. Here it's so real and so good.
Because I believe everything "sits upon" opposites. And still never thought I'd feel the right side of what was the cold side. Yet here it was - my hand holding a racing heart and mine, ...mine's a completely different surface of light.
Now, I don't ode this to an old beast - I say it to archive that the "soft spring nights" of my hoping fantasy - I just had. I just travelled years of time to more joy than it ever growled I wasn't worth.
How's that for destiny?
. . .
That was it, and a whole story more. (Later.) But let's take a moment for the equal balance found. The dreamily, romantically, lived opposite of all the pain of another woman who I was. Here, there were,- are- open hearts, kind soft touch and hours long expression. Here it's so real and so good.
Because I believe everything "sits upon" opposites. And still never thought I'd feel the right side of what was the cold side. Yet here it was - my hand holding a racing heart and mine, ...mine's a completely different surface of light.
Now, I don't ode this to an old beast - I say it to archive that the "soft spring nights" of my hoping fantasy - I just had. I just travelled years of time to more joy than it ever growled I wasn't worth.
How's that for destiny?
. . .
2/7/18
Boston 3
So go to Boston & think of me. Cause maybe that’s the girl I should be. Maybe I, maybe you, maybe any compromise wouldn’t do — or could be found. But here we are again, saying goodbye just near that wonderful town — with flights and fears and failing plans.
I remember the exact sound, how strange, that the door made the morning that you left. It said the sounds of what we always say too late — and you were gone and off. The sheets still warm, the room still sweet, my mind and heart still soft against it all.
It could’ve been two years ago — us ending at chapter 1, hello, and on again, so then...
And now I’ve just realized that’ll be the last. That - ah - was what I heard as it spoke and silenced all the quickened blissful falls a second old.
We tried so beautifully this time.
Weren’t we great in all the new & old & speaking souls — taking slow breathes between secrets — and then on into a laugh. So I’ll strike the deal there and try — with you remembering mine, and me remembering...your whistle in the morning. And everything before and after the close.
Another morning just hours to come.
. . .
I remember the exact sound, how strange, that the door made the morning that you left. It said the sounds of what we always say too late — and you were gone and off. The sheets still warm, the room still sweet, my mind and heart still soft against it all.
It could’ve been two years ago — us ending at chapter 1, hello, and on again, so then...
And now I’ve just realized that’ll be the last. That - ah - was what I heard as it spoke and silenced all the quickened blissful falls a second old.
We tried so beautifully this time.
Weren’t we great in all the new & old & speaking souls — taking slow breathes between secrets — and then on into a laugh. So I’ll strike the deal there and try — with you remembering mine, and me remembering...your whistle in the morning. And everything before and after the close.
Another morning just hours to come.
. . .
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