Tears sit, poised on my lashes and threatening me to pounce as the graceful, effortless words tumble softly from your mouth and take flight. You breathe those glorious words.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I hear them, and they swirls around my head for the rest of the day, ruffling my hair, tugging on my shoelaces. Your beautiful words, new and fresh and tinted a soft pink.
They cause my breath to become like the ocean waves, shaky and shallow.

Then, I push my words from my mouth. And they fall, yes they fall, but not like yours. My words are heavy and worn and gray and clumsy and hit the ground with a tremendous thud. And you attempt to coax my words up and away into the breeze with yours. You say it will come. You say it is something learned.
But I cannot wait to learn. I cannot wait for it to come.
Because in my head your words are always spinning, mixed in with the roar of my blood rushing through my veins and the ‘Shhhh’ of my deep breaths.

I cannot take it.

I cannot take it.

I cannot breathe anymore.

Yellow: The color of your thick, wonderful voice dripping into my ear when you spoke to me as I laid in your lap on that Wednesday evening.

Blue: The color of your old bike that you would ride past my house on, sailing straight through the neighbors sprinklers when they splashed onto the street.

Red: The color of that Sno-Cone you spilled on my lap. You stroked my leg with your napkin. My soul felt on fire.

Pink: The color of your smooth shoulders after that day at the beach. I still hear the sea at times.

Purple: The color of the sky on nights where the only sounds were the brushings of the tall grass and the whisperings of our two voices.

White: The color of the blanket we used to use when we had picnics on Sunday’s. Those stains won’t seem to come out of that thing.

Orange: The color of the warm bonfire that would spatter across your face when we toasted marshmallows as the putrid smoke crept into our lungs slowly, and with a scary silence.

Green: The color of the shirt you wore to that concert. I had never heard of the band, but you had said you liked them. I bought our tickets.

Silver: The color of your small car. I counted the seconds it took for you to pull out of my driveway when you left for the last time. 5 seconds.

The light in your eyes is fading fast,
like the dramatic smoke
from a flame no longer
drifting up towards the ceiling.

I see it crashing down around you now.

You appear to approach the world with a dazzling smile
and with a caring touch.
Your eyes water as graceful words fall from your mouth
And your voice floats up and down
as the wind takes it by the hand and asks it to dance
a sad, slow waltz.

And yet you seem to carry on.
Head held high.
Feet seemingly firm on the shifting earth beneath you.

But you are not fooling me.

I see the cracks in your heavy armor.
The fissures where your shield has been broken
and super-glued back together quickly in shame and agony
time after time.

And it is sad, what you've become
You don’t see that many strive to live like you.
Think like you do
Be like you
Even you are striving to be something
that you already are.

I like the way you dress differently than everyone else in this place.
It draws my eye in.
And I like the way you play the guitar, and sing old rock songs spontaneously in that deep voice.
I could hear you if you whispered from the bottom of the ocean
I wish you would stretch out every syllable when you said my name.
Because I never want it to end.
When you look near me, my lungs fill with air and my heart expands in an instant.
I know you can see me blush, but you never say anything of it.

You’d think, after all of these things, I would love you.
That I would want to kiss you endlessly.

But the truth is, I do not.
You are no different from anyone else in this room.
We do not fit together, our lives separated by a deep river of false expectations and fleeting facades.
We are not similar, and do not belong with one another.

But that does not mean
That I will stop pining for what I think you are
And what I believe you represent.
I never will.
I always will.

The Worn Jacket, the Single Glove, the Old Hat.

{Things found in the box by the door.}

Dancing Eyes, Cool Tears, Wide Grins

{Things found in kindness}

Cold Fears, Small Minds, Stone Hearts

{Things found in evil}

Dusty Finished Records, Quick Caresses, A Small Flame

{Things found between lovers}

Quick Banter, Deep Breaths, A Warm Embrace

{Things found in friendship}

Blankness, Slamming, Loose Keys

{Things found in giving up}

Conversations, Accidental Meetings, Flickering Smiles

{Things found in off-chances}

Blank Paper, Pounding Feet, Quiet Music

{Things found within yourself}

-d.z.