I hated knowing the fact that she was absent.
Missing the feel of her caress.
The arms that slipped over mine as comfortable as a jacket.
It was therapeutic in a sense.
The warmth that accompanied a simple smile spread across my face.
Knowing that she was there.
It wasn't as easy as going to the store.
Constantly trying on jackets looking for the right fit,
Paying no never mind to the tags that read different sizes.
The 2x's. 1x's. Sometimes disused as the wrong size.
No matter the store, there would never be another her.
I hated imagining the chime that would sing from under the mat when one foot hit the right spot walking into the store.
The awkward look passed from one customer to the other, the hassle of standing in line.
No, this was far from comfortable.
The ease of having what you need unexpectedly given to you, all of a sudden taken away.
The seams of her arms tailored around mine.
Snug against my back, her head as the collar laid against my neck, my chest.
What I needed was her, without her nothing felt right
It started with a jacket
It was fresh and exciting and you loved it
Time passed and the jacket was worn again and again
Often times it didn’t match, but you loved it
Now it has holes and cracks in the leather
I went to put it on this year and it felt cold
The shoulders fell past their familiar spot
The lining was splitting at the seams
The coat had outgrown me, it was worn out
A feeling all too familiar
It ended with a jacket.
I wear my faith like a warm jacket,
so when it starts to slip
I feel cold and I start shivering.
It keeps me moving forward,
it keeps me sane with all that I lack.
It protects me even if I'm not worthy
of a single piece of cloth on my back.
I'll never understand it.
I remember being at the park
waiting for you.
I had my leather jacket on,
a book on my right hand
and tea on the other.
You were the lights on a christmas tree.
You were the confetti on a cake.
You were Bonnie and I was Clyde.
But you disappeared.
Sooner than seafoam,
And I was blue,
bluer than the ocean.
Many people, including yourself say I do what I do because I am fighting hard for a prize.
I have news for them, you are no prize, what so-ever. As harsh as this sounds, it is really a great phrase.
When I say you are not a prize, it means you are not an object that can be taken or to be possessed. Instead,
you are a beautiful human being that I am lucky to have in my life, and that everything I do, is intended to earn
the right to be the official person that will make you happy, take care of you, support you, as well as grow as a team, whether
if it is labeled only has best of friends or something special. Only selfish want I always had that the chance that I see the true feelings I sometimes see in you in waves, maybe a breath of fresh love from time to time, that I could one day improve myself and prove to be a best person in your life in a meaningful way.
A deep connection like this should be pleasurable and fun everyday as we build each other up and frolic under the stars. A beautiful friendship with deep feelings is most similar to dancing, as it should not be painful work but a journey of smiles at the end of the day.....
That mentioned, to best describe the world of deep friendship up to true love and anything between is to describe why two people dance. When we chose to dance,
unless professional, it was never meant to be an object of hard work or stress, but the activity that brings out the best of each other while enjoying the rhythm
of music, as we know as life. It's all about combining out best moves to show the audience that the duo can dance to any beat. Sometimes dancing can demand a lot skill. To maintain a great performance, it does take good communication, social cues, and proper response to accurately synchronize the dance steps as a team. A second look back is sometimes needed to execute a shocking introduction without injury; But more or less, without targeting the end result as in the audiences approval or a prize at the end, the true gift is the laughter and excitement of celebrating the music in a coordinated dance skit.
I have danced with many partners, but I must say I have enjoy dancing with you the most, despite hiccups on the disco floor and few skipped rehearsals. Some moves you made can put the king of pop to shame, as I do believe I can rock the Caspar from time to time. I am satisfied with any genre of music while dancing with you. I must admit I am no Fred Astaire, as I can be a klutz. I made a few misleads that I accidentally stump on your toes while some of your moves have place bruises on my shin. This is common when you dance hard to the loudest, most brilliant music we tend to discover. There are times I blow the dance routine by misreading your next step totally, where at other times, I come unprepared to a new move that impresses the best judges. My main error is when I over-coordinate my special moves when the music of life drops the beat. I am happy though we are savvy enough to whip back into rhythm. I may not be the greatest show partner on floor, as I have not maintained my dancing jacket over the years, even though I believe that jacket was once cute. I understand that a good dancing partner must take the time to visit the tailor to replenish the thinning cloth around the collar, maybe add a bulk of fluff to the shoulder pads, refresh the color, and most important replacing the missing white buttons. Until then I do understand you want to dance with other people that still maintained their jackets, but I know that my dance moves are best coordinated to the rhythm of your style of music :). That being said....
Let's enjoy today, enjoy the flow of the music and where t leads us, and most importantly,.. May I have this next dance :) I am always honored to tear the floor with you, and redefine the musical genre called love and friendship.
I am tattered and worn through
I am tangled and distracted
All of my strings have become loose
My body is a knit jacket
Hang me on rusty metal hooks
I'm filling in your hollow shelves
Replacing every antique book
But he only cares for himself
I can't sustain my perfect shape
Because you kindle a fire
I'm a candle, melting away
And all I ever feel is tired
But everytime you hold me
My sleeves intertwine with pale skin
My thoughts are slowly unfolding
Now I'm ready to let you in
Her love thoroughly coats
like cat hair on a black jacket:
encompassing from front to back,
tickling playfully underneath armpits;
overwhelming from tiniest to long,
armies of glistening lines on dark planes;
catching gazes close and far,
stigmatized for being so noticeable;
sickening to envious and hallow hearts,
allergic to solemn, broken souls;
and yet despite the nuisance
that comes with such fashion,
it is relieving, comforting, and pleasing
because it reminds me
that the house isn't empty
and that I am not alone.