Feb 2014
I’ve found a writer that I love
Whose hair hangs loose like wild-flowers
Eyes shaped like almonds
And a smile that I swear set fire to the rain forest
And how weird this must be for me
Because I promised myself I’d never fall in love with someone who saw the curves in my sadness the way only a writer does
But I can’t help but cling to the way he uses his words with me
He has a clear, concise understanding of the fact that although I am a lover of words I am equally in love with someone who does not waste them
He is particular in his speech the same way he is particular in the way he consumes me
His words are just as strong as his love is
His mouth devours me the same way he divulges his truths
The way his light is as iridescent as the sun during the season of Christmas
But I swear his darkness is just as beautiful.
I am bound to the way my name flows off his lips and
His unconscious need to be near...
Whether it is his hand writing inches from mine
Or his legs stationed beneath me
Or the way he sleeps with gentle interludes
He wakes to touch me
Not to see if I am next to him because …he knows any bed that he is in, I am insurmountably indebted to.
He wakes to touch me
To let me know that he still dreams about me in his sleep
That he still wakes thinking of me even though there is no measurable distance between us
He wakes to touch me
Whether it be the “You are love” from his lips
Or the “I am yours” that he mouths
Or the way he makes both Chai tea and coffee for me, only for him to drink which one I decide to reconsider
He wakes to touch my being
And on the days I need to fall away for a little while
Whether I become consumed in a book or indebted to some instance of nostalgia
He waits for me...
And upon my arrival back to our world that we have created… he simply sits a note under our wedding picture …
“I am missing from you”
And I kiss the lips of the love at which I am bound
With a note in my hand
“I can only go without my breath for so long, for I have been longing to come back to you”
And as we find our way back to this place time and time again...
His arms wrap around me whispering “I am here”
By: Indigo Morrison
Whose hair hangs loose like wild-flowers
Eyes shaped like almonds
And a smile that I swear set fire to the rain forest
And how weird this must be for me
Because I promised myself I’d never fall in love with someone who saw the curves in my sadness the way only a writer does
But I can’t help but cling to the way he uses his words with me
He has a clear, concise understanding of the fact that although I am a lover of words I am equally in love with someone who does not waste them
He is particular in his speech the same way he is particular in the way he consumes me
His words are just as strong as his love is
His mouth devours me the same way he divulges his truths
The way his light is as iridescent as the sun during the season of Christmas
But I swear his darkness is just as beautiful.
I am bound to the way my name flows off his lips and
His unconscious need to be near...
Whether it is his hand writing inches from mine
Or his legs stationed beneath me
Or the way he sleeps with gentle interludes
He wakes to touch me
Not to see if I am next to him because …he knows any bed that he is in, I am insurmountably indebted to.
He wakes to touch me
To let me know that he still dreams about me in his sleep
That he still wakes thinking of me even though there is no measurable distance between us
He wakes to touch me
Whether it be the “You are love” from his lips
Or the “I am yours” that he mouths
Or the way he makes both Chai tea and coffee for me, only for him to drink which one I decide to reconsider
He wakes to touch my being
And on the days I need to fall away for a little while
Whether I become consumed in a book or indebted to some instance of nostalgia
He waits for me...
And upon my arrival back to our world that we have created… he simply sits a note under our wedding picture …
“I am missing from you”
And I kiss the lips of the love at which I am bound
With a note in my hand
“I can only go without my breath for so long, for I have been longing to come back to you”
And as we find our way back to this place time and time again...
His arms wrap around me whispering “I am here”
By: Indigo Morrison
