Jan 2014
I spent my life waiting for you.
Tasting your flesh on others, I knew the smell of your sweat before holding your physical face in my mind’s eye. But this does not matter.This was nothing but the feeling that aroused my being when looking into your eyes for the first time. This was simply the line in the water that attached my soul to yours and everyone else’s.
I held my breath and then, I saw you. light sparkling, aura burning. Your astral self floated around in my day dreams. I prayed. Listened harder than I have ever had to, because I had to. And in you came, galloping on a horse bright white. Like the gods themselves descended, and allowed you a few minutes to enter this dimension. To hold the hand of the lover(s) you never felt, but felt.
Soft, and gentle. Your skin reminded me of the house I grew up in, and longed to never leave. Your pain glistened like the glassiness of your eyes as you held me in your heart, terrified that I would leave you. That somehow your beauty would be taken for-granted, with the vision of me drinking your cup greedily and you having to refill and refill, until there was nothing to fill it with. And, I did. I drank, fearfully. That veil hung heavily in my eyes, wrapping my body tightly and you begged me to take it off. Let your face be seen, you said. I asked which one, and pulled out my heart. Stood there with it in my hands, letting sticky, smelly blood run down my calves and stomach, and you smiled. The first real smile I had seen, in what felt like decades.
Now, dissect. Rip it apart, you said. I argued that it may never look the same, that it would it would fill every nerve with pain. But just you smiled that smile, and took my hand. Tried to stitch every stitch, every slice, every position possible. But it kept slipping, the way you slipped around inside me. Moving, shifting, making space, rearranging my soul so it may fit you. So we may fit inside each other, in this life that was no longer ethereal, but a physical thing. Too physical for my soul to understand, it seemed. Relentlessly circling my small intestine around your throat, like a snake with no eyes left. Trying hard to go home.
Tasting your flesh on others, I knew the smell of your sweat before holding your physical face in my mind’s eye. But this does not matter.This was nothing but the feeling that aroused my being when looking into your eyes for the first time. This was simply the line in the water that attached my soul to yours and everyone else’s.
I held my breath and then, I saw you. light sparkling, aura burning. Your astral self floated around in my day dreams. I prayed. Listened harder than I have ever had to, because I had to. And in you came, galloping on a horse bright white. Like the gods themselves descended, and allowed you a few minutes to enter this dimension. To hold the hand of the lover(s) you never felt, but felt.
Soft, and gentle. Your skin reminded me of the house I grew up in, and longed to never leave. Your pain glistened like the glassiness of your eyes as you held me in your heart, terrified that I would leave you. That somehow your beauty would be taken for-granted, with the vision of me drinking your cup greedily and you having to refill and refill, until there was nothing to fill it with. And, I did. I drank, fearfully. That veil hung heavily in my eyes, wrapping my body tightly and you begged me to take it off. Let your face be seen, you said. I asked which one, and pulled out my heart. Stood there with it in my hands, letting sticky, smelly blood run down my calves and stomach, and you smiled. The first real smile I had seen, in what felt like decades.
Now, dissect. Rip it apart, you said. I argued that it may never look the same, that it would it would fill every nerve with pain. But just you smiled that smile, and took my hand. Tried to stitch every stitch, every slice, every position possible. But it kept slipping, the way you slipped around inside me. Moving, shifting, making space, rearranging my soul so it may fit you. So we may fit inside each other, in this life that was no longer ethereal, but a physical thing. Too physical for my soul to understand, it seemed. Relentlessly circling my small intestine around your throat, like a snake with no eyes left. Trying hard to go home.
