In the dark, I see you.
I see your room, dim and weird. Unusual artifacts from an unusual archeologist, digging through the sediment of life, littering shelves.
I see your face, framed by loose hairs from a lazy bun, all over a poorly fitting hoodie.
I see your hands, more aged than I remember, with your various rings, punctuating the oddities of your personality, acquired over a life strangely lived.
I see your tattoos, a reflection of choices and things believed at one point or another. People who influenced, and ideas that crept into prominence. I don't like tattoos, but they are like stained glass windows, and I can see their beauty, as you shine through them.
I see your car, on a mountain road. I can hear you loudly proclaim, expressions of grief, and through them, expressions of relief. A venting process, an opportunity to raise your voice and yell! To shake a stick at God, not knowing if he sees you, but knowing that I do.
I can see the three days we spent together lined up in a row, like photographs in a reel. A moment at the University, holding my hand, and my ever so subtle embarrassment at the notion. A prolonged eye contact over coffee that's not that great, but servicable as a context for deep conversation. A long phone call, after a short text, after a long time, from a short lived love.
I can see your eyes, looking back at me, wondering what I see in you. In their reflection, I think the same. I can see the shape, and the eye-shadow, applied meticulously or perhaps lazily, I'm not sure.
I can smell the lotion you use, I guess it's the same you've always used. It takes me back to hiking short hikes in non hiking county, sitting over an ugly creek on an old rusted pipe. Yet in those moments the world could not have been any more beautiful.
I can feel your hair in my hands, a soothing motion, attempting to smooth the notion, the conversation, that was ugly and disgraceful, but necessary.
I know in my heart , what you mean to me. I know that I love you, and feel no shame at saying as much.
Around you, I am free. My soul bared, I melt on to you, and carbonize, like sugar burning in a pan. How stuck I have become.
"Let a pan sit in warm water with some dish soap, before using the rough side of a sponge to remove stubborn food and stains."
Some cleaning advice from me to you.
In the dark, I see you. You glitter like the stars. In the distance, you dance in perfect harmony.
But like every astronomer, I too must accept, no matter how much I love the stars, I cannot go to them.
I watch, through my telescope of memory, where only in the dark, can I see you
