What are the odds
Of finding je ne sais quoi
When you're searching for it
In the middle of a dead language
Or in a parallel universe
Like Sputnik Sweetheart

Her heart is made of the horizon.
You walk through the shoreline
And think you can measure it.

How big it must be to hold
Thousands of sunrise and sunsets
And ships and mermaids
And battles and heaven.

Silence and space. We have now mastered the trick. And we are living it. No cues. No dramatic transitions or face-slapping moment.
Dead air is not even awkward.
The parlor games are busted.
It just happened one Tuesday morning inside Starbucks after you ordered your iced Americano and my vanilla frappuccino, no whipped cream,

Maybe there's a sequel to this story, but for now, we should roll the credits.

Do not let love be missing from you.
Embrace him in all his glory and light,
Walk together.
Spend eternity in love's kingdom forever.

Friday night,
bright lights
at the corner of the square
where we don't know each other (yet).
Our eyes locked.
There were no keys.
Our gaze kissed.
Who would have thought that I'd be so hooked
with those brown eyes.
Lips were silent.
Hearts weren't.
I thought it was the start of some fireworks.
Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't.
But the way you stared smelled like poison.
It was not blank.
It did not lie.
The transparency amused and terrified me.
I would love to dig deeper and enter the universe that it holds.
What would it taste like?
I am scared to be consumed without a fight.
Friday night,
dim lights
Our eyes locked.
I am searching for the keys.

When the sea is calm again and the grey clouds no longer hold thunders, I hope to see you at the shore still smiling.

And in the midst of metal scraps and wreckage, may you be standing still and siphon all the chaos into a black hole, leave it there and raise a white flag of surrender.

May you be thankful that the storm passed, you are alive, and a sunny day has come.