MrRight or maybe now or later
Dear Mr.Right,

I think I understand now.

And I get it .

We sit waiting.
Seconds.minutes.hours. days.
For the someone in our life to complete us,

to wrap our wounds and mend our hearts.
To laugh at the jokes  we tell even when they aren’t funny. no especially when they aren’t funny.

To challenge us and to make us forget, but allow us the space to remember.

To know when we want to be held,

but don’t know how to ask,

a mate,

a lover,

a friend.

And we wait.

Believing and hoping they will come and rescues us from the tower,

to fight off the demons and the dragons of the mundane day to day life.

And to win our hand, for rescuing us.

And we sit and wait as we expect them to tear down the walls of our imprisonment whether mental or concrete,

as we become less,

we become dormant,

when we have been given the same tools and opportunities to tie up the bed sheets or cascade our hair down, to escape,

to be free, wasting away in the waiting

I want to warn you

I am not sitting on my bed waiting,

do not look for me in the kitchen making the pies to appease your hunger,

I am out collecting treasures,

and having adventures,

and making memories

with hook and finding my way with pirates,

and traipsing with sinners while believing in saints,

you wont find me with apple scented skin but maybe lemons,

or grass,

or the sea salt ocean

or dandelions,

because I am lying in the meadow looking up at the stars breathing in cold air,

and thinking of you

but you will not find me waiting for the world to be put back on its axis or ask atlas to put down his burden,

im not running away, but Im not waiting in a tower held high above life.

Ill be among the disciples and the hipsters, brushing off the mud of my jeans and rolling down hills with children,

kissing boo boos  and fighting my own demons.

And one day we’ll meet and I ll ask you where were you when I was waiting and maybe you will say looking for you. or maybe you’ll say I was waiting for you. And we’ll be happy to find each other.

I will not let life pass me by while i am waiting, but Ill put pieces of me in all my letters left to tell you of my adventures,

If you thought Id be less pirate more princess I’m sorry to say maybe it’s better this way. I am not dormantly waiting,I want too much for that, I  want to know me before I find you. I want to be single and appreciate the entire bed and not having to share, to look in the mirror and to know my own worth and beauty, and maybe these things will come later in life before or while you are around. I know not your name or the hour in which we’ll meet but tonight I’m thinking of you. Catch me of you can.

Sleep is for the resilient
those who relish what they experience
and experience in the light
which dwindles and simmers
with the day.

Sleep is for those
who speak subconsciously
consuming the world
behind wearisome eyes.

Sleeps comes
as the escape
and recovery
while the world
impacts those who remain
awake.

Sleep is the fruit
of every harvest between days and nights,
so the encumbered may survive and thrive.

Sleep breeds the seed
sprouting essences of our minds
dormantly realizing.
actively collecting.

Sleep is the escape
that seizes time and surroundings
so let the end stretch
so I will never awake.

Sometimes I hear things when I drive
Most of the time it's car horns
Sometimes it's the screeching of tires on asphalt screaming to be stopped
I try not to focus on it because you shouldn't be distracted while driving
So I keep my hands on the controls
And my eyes on the road

Sometimes in the mirrors I see your face
Glowing faintly like some kind of ethereal movie image
Sent by a projector with a bad bulb
Sometimes I wonder if I drive alone or if you're there
But that train of thought sends my misled hands faulty directions
And I drift out of my desired lane

Sometimes I wonder if the voice coming from the speakers is yours
And if its the same voice haunting the air vents
Whispering lies into my vulnerable mind
I try to ignore them but it gets to me after a while
And eventually my glass house of bottled substance abuse and sustenance comes crashing
Leaving my hands to crawl on a broken field of glass and reanimated pains that slept dormantly at peace

So I staple my hands to the wheel
And glue my eyes to the road
And try my hardest not to cry and swerve into the first car or railing or tree I see
And pretend that face in my mirror behind me is just the trick of the light

I still think about the tree you hit
I never told you that we visited it once after you
But only once

I ran my fingers across the twisted and scarred bark
I studied the missing chunk of wood and felt nothing but an ache in the pit of my soul

I'd visit it again sometime if it weren't for the same reason I haven't visited you:
I don't know where to go.

Roads and highways and backwoods remind me of the cemetery you rest in
Each tree, each house, each street light and sign
All of it looks the same
Much like the gravestones creating the labyrinth you stay in

But if one day I do stumble across your grave
Or that tree
I'll bring you a grape soda and a blunt
And a Mickey Mouse for your collection
And we can talk again
Just me and you

Hopefully I get a response