I was the shoreline
and you were
the waves

heavy air,
a body beside me,
it's face buried in a pillow, resting
the two of us like sprawled starfish
on a sea bed of blanket

here we lie, centered in our narrow room,
a room made bright by the single skylight above,
clouded  

the following forming the soundscape of this moment:
- Sam's breath, my breath
- a pair of bluebottles buzzing and bumping into the walls
- an itch every now and then of sunburned skin, a leg brushing itself against the sheets
- a distant Tristan singing songs to his daughter down in the kitchen

there is a bucket with sick in it
there is a ***** laundry pile
there is a red, sun cream stained bikini hanging on the door handle
there are two clean, white towels and
two holiday cameras: the first's film already finished, the second with a little yet to go

Maybe we'll go to the beach
Maybe we'll go to the town or discover
a new town or ride our bikes out again until we find somewhere just right

the day has so much promise and
I have so little I have to do
but lie here and be grateful for time

I promised again,

in the meantime already --


crossing the threshold.

Morph
Morph into anything
Into a nightmare
Into a pleasant dream
A morning bird
Or a moonlit bedroom
Fear of handcuffs
Or whisper's trust
Into an old man
Or newborn flower
Stain of coffee
Or withering grass

Whatever
You'll morph into
In my dream

I'll still love you

There they were…
Lying on the bed, with her head resting below his shoulder, listening to his heart beat, and praying it never stops.
One leg draped over him, as if she was afraid he’d free from her embrace. As though her leg, a restraint, holding him in place, keeping him from leaving.
Her arm resting on his body with her hand on his chest.
There they were…
The safest place she could think of.
Her favorite place to be.
She was with him.
Their love, shielding them from the chaos of the outside world, while she silently worries, that he’ll someday leave.
He notices, and reassures her… he’s here to stay.
“He’s here to stay!” She thinks to herself. She’d finally won the fight against her own mind.
He said it himself! He won’t leave!
She could finally feel at peace.
His reassurance and validation was all she needed to believe.
And just like that, she could finally sleep. See… he made her feel safe.
He said “Let me love and protect you! That is the job I want!”
So she let her walls crumble, opened the door, and she let him step in.
He dusted the cobwebs, and drew back the drapes. He painted the walls and straightened the frames. He fixed the creaky doors and floors, and mended broken shelves. He brought light to the darkness, and color to the grey.
He even bought flowers for the empty vase, that had seen better days.
He just strolled in, and he made it a home suited for two.
He said “no more need for walls” and he put in a sparkling moat. “You’re safe with me, you can rest and unload.”
She didn't yet know, that what she’d need protecting from, was him.
For when he’d rip it all away.
He loves her.
He loved her.
Up until one day…
And there they were.
Both, unaware and unafraid.

At least Jesus knew what was coming:
the betrayal, the pain, the abandonment,
the journey down, the climb back, the reunion
with abandoned friendships,
the chance to walk and sit  
with the taste of simple meals,
but no wine yet,
before his departure.

At least we know what’s coming -
the long journey, the ups and downs,
the sound of the latch on that narrow gate,
the weight of our cross,
the chance to walk our paths with him.

The break of bread, the shared wine,
pointing to a ‘dine with me’ where we’ll feast royally,
when we’ll see him take that long awaited sip
or perhaps simply dip his bread,
nod his head and smile,
knowing there's an eternity of this to come.

At least we all know what’s coming.

She told me it was like a thick fog. Orphan clouds that will never see the world from above. The way she described her blindness was like taking the next step in hope it doesn't lead you off the cliff.

She  saw the world through her hands. Her touch gave her the canvas, while her mind was the paint brush. Yet, she wanted to see it all. Surgery was the only option.

My Past Self Asked: "What didn't you know back then?"
My Present Self Answered: "I know now that love hurts as much as it heals. I made a
𝐏ast
𝐑eassurance
𝐎pening
𝐌emories
𝐈ntroducing
𝐒timulated
𝐄xpect­ations
to be there for her eye surgery. I'll be the first face she sees, but I wasn't there for her. So she only saw herself.......... she only saw the world without me in it."