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 Jun 2014 Jindomess
Kagami
"Hey, sweets! How was your trip?"
or
"Hey, love :) Hope you had a good time!"
or even
"Hey, I missed you."

No.

You forgot.

Hours after you get home, I sit waiting,
Not knowing when you would get home.

I was home at two yesterday.
I had service at eleven.
I left the cabin at nine in the morning
A six hour car ride
Wondering if you missed me, because I sure as hell missed you.

And I get a "hi."
Probably over reacting. Still hurts.
 Jun 2014 Jindomess
Kagami
Lately, I haven't been sure.
 Jun 2014 Jindomess
Kagami
In the woods, I stood and ran.
Watched and blinked, watched again and everything
Changed.
I ran through every twisted maze of vines and stones
Protruding from the ground and the air around me,
As if I was in a dream.

I thought back to everything:
The first night, the first awkward hug, the first nervous kiss.
The way we moved and touched, the times we got lost in
Conversations or arguments, the times I refused to dance
And the times when you refused to tell me
What was bothering you.
I remembered the unspeakables and the times when we played
Like innocent children in an adult way.

I remembered every detail, every thing you had ever said to me
Like it was carved into stone.

And I began to miss you.

I looked through a clearing of wildflowers
And I imagined a cabin, just big enough for the two of us and our children.
the little ones running free by the waterfalls and through the wildflowers
While I sit and write on the porch, your head in my lap.

So quiet. So serene.

I dreamed of nights when the children are away at their grandparents'
and we had the house to ourselves, dimly lit,
And the faint sound of screaming to the guitars and drums it matches.
We are still the same as we are now, but responsible,
Older.

It was because of those fantasies that I realized how much
I loved you. How much I do love you and always will.
Even though it doesn't seem like it,
I love the way you look at me. I love when you tell me I'm beautiful.
I love when you hug me when I am upset,
But infuriates me that I can not stay angry at you.
I love the shimmer in your eyes when you sit and stare,
And the way your pupils dilate when you come closer to me.
I love how rough you are because you know I wont break,
And I adore how gentle you can be.

And as I was reading today, I realized
Why you appeal to me as much as you do.
You are not the type that most girls look for, though you should be.
You appeal to me because of everything I love about you,
And everything I love about you makes you
The living, breathing version of the man in my books.

You are the hero that saved me,
cracked open the shell over my soul and poured out the remnants of
The whole smile I once had.
You made something of it.
You made something of me when I thought I'd have nothing left.

After everything I have seen and experienced with you by my side,
I still have so much to learn.
I have so much to discover, And most of that is
Trying to realize how far my love for you will go.

After everything, this still feels like new.
The innocence and the questions. It's no mystery,
But it is foreign enough to be my home,
The place where I am supposed to be.
It's all of the little things.
 Jun 2014 Jindomess
Kagami
Every lie, every single one, is in some way a truth.
Every truth, every single one, is in some way a lie.

Think about it.
 Jun 2014 Jindomess
Kagami
Maybe
 Jun 2014 Jindomess
Kagami
The power of the word,
Or maybe the power we give it.

A forever-long walk along the beach,
Watching as the sun rises into the windows
Of a small house on the edge.
One push of the wind and it will plummet;
An endless distance lays below.
 May 2014 Jindomess
Kagami
"Sketch
-------
In every drawing, every sketch, every line made with a pencil.
There are pictures hidden.
An emotion left behind.
An imprint.

Every **** at my screen forms a letter, making up the words you are reading now.
And every tap of my fingernail is some sort of song I have in my head.

Everything has a meaning. Even if you don't know it.
A math equation: 17t =.5+14(t+.25)
17 means something to someone. An anniversary.
.25: A quarter. Maybe dinner for a homeless man.

Everything has meaning.

I drew a tree on my page. And that symbolizes the ways I've grown.
Ways I've changed, matured.
And also the beauty and grace of just simply
Standing tall.

Every seam on my dress was designed by someone.
I am wearing an idea.
And that idea could've been someone's pride and joy.
The career they dreamed of and finally achieved.

You never know.

Every stroke of chalk, oil, paint, is an emotion.
I would stab a canvas with a pencil lead thin brush
And it would make a star.
So simple, so beautiful, but what if my head, my heart, my body, was trembling with anger.
Or fear.
Or sadness.
A white rose is beautiful, you'd give it to your lover.
But did you know it symbolizes death?
It's peaceful nature and delicate scent, it's bright light, it's bright color.

It makes me cry every time.
Because somehow, when whoever created that symbol or came up with the idea,
They wanted to die. And they most likely did.
So then, why do people wear black at funerals?

The color is the opposite of death. If you count the white rose.
It symbolizes rebirth.

Living in the hearts of those who actually showed up to mourn you.
While others might have skipped because its just too sad or,
Maybe, they're happy. And they wore yellow that day instead.

Read between the lines. Between the creases.
Between the fingers of someone I used to know,
There were scars.

Who looked at the side of someone's finger?
No one. They were hidden.

She was hurt, but she wore pink.
And her scars were pink as well.
New, like a baby's skin. And what if it was? If it was a baby's skin,
Her way of rebirthing herself into the world and find her new soul,
Her new knowledge?

Read between the lines.
Because she had them in her toes, too."
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