I keep having dreams about you holding her hand. Somehow I’m standing right in front of you but its like your looking through a pane of glass; sharp and see through, like there’s nothing left but your reflection. It’s always been about you; I knew that. But when you held my hand I thought you could read my skin like a page covered in brail.

I keep kissing him and remembering the way your hands traced my face. The moon left us in the dark, searching for the sun’s warmth. He made me feel like a piece of art, watercolors bursting from a canvas but he left me to hang on the wall.

I keep thinking that it’s better this way, but when I took out the trash I felt just like the aluminum can as it clattered to the floor. Empty and used. Nothing but traces of drunken fingerprints against a label that no one cares to remember. Memories rising to the back of your throat only to be swallowed down like a pill you take to cover up all the places where you’ve been broken.

I forgot that loving you was like pouring a bowl of cereal and then running out of milk

I.

my lungs felt like glass bulbs and my head was full of the sea. I leaned across the glove box with my eyes closed. He told me that was the best kiss he'd ever received; maybe it was the mint chocolate chip ice cream.

II.

from far away they were green, up close though, his eyes were blue. Definitely blue. A comforter beneath my tanned legs, his  hand against my thigh. His lips touched mine, gentle and innocent. We fell asleep to the buzz of the television.

III.

algebra was another language, but when he spoke to me; I understood every equation. His kiss left my head spinning. Maybe the pencils held too much lead.

IV

we spent the summer in a run down arcade. He had a freckle on his chest that I swore looked like New Jersey. Our kisses tasted of kettle corn.

V

his hands were calloused. I wish I never knew what cigarettes tasted like.

VI

I could write an entire book about each time his lips met mine.

VII

my sweater reeked of *** but he didn't seem to mind. When we passed through the halls he called me Jess.

VIII

it shouldn't have been him, but too much ***** can impair ones judgement.

IX.

we spent nights lying in the grass, it tickled my back. He gave me his lucky cigarette.

X.

the room was dark and the stairs creaked. His fingers quickened the pulse in my neck. I kept my eyes open.

A soulmate for me is someone whom i feel safe with...and i'm not talking about physical safety here...by safety i mean mental and emotional safety...if i'm afraid or hesitant to expose myself mentally or emotionally in front of my lover...for fear of being judged..if i can't be myself around my lover...if i'm afraid to drop my defences and choose to remain constantly guarded in front of my lover...then it has to be said that the person is not and cannot be my soulmate. A soulmate should be someone who accepts you for who you are and isn't constantly trying to turn you into someone you are not. A soulmate should impact you positively and fill you with happiness and belief. Often i keep hearing that it is impossible to find the perfect soulmate...well guess what no one is perfect...your soulmate isn't supposed to be perfect in every aspect..you make up for his shortcomings and he makes up for your flaws....that's how this works...soulmates aren't rare...it's just that like all good things sometimes they arrive a bit late..(sometimes a bit more late than you would like!!!)...but they do come...you just gotta look hard and have patience.