Walking up the river stream, water gently splashes on my limbs. With a light pep in the steps I hum and turn around, encouraged – I hear you laugh and whistle along. I smile. To you I feel connected. Advertisements
No matter what I do My mind keeps going back to you Make me dance in the blaze of that bonfire Make me twirl, whirl under the light of stars
When I think of you My heart flutters Beats unexpected rhythms My phone beeps It is you Cheeks fire up Heart burns When I read Even the simplest words You affect me In ways I did not expect Surprise me At every turn
Sparks fly across the room ricocheting words jumping from my mouth to his and back. Each thought shared, more intimate, more eager than the last. Then out of their depth, his eyes come into focus. He stares into mine.
I recall (…) riding my bike to my Gran’s hotel, crossing the Place des Vosges, walking through the gates into the hotel’s courtyard, (…) She is standing right outside the wrought iron fence and seems engaged in a heated conversation. She moves to walk away as I step closer.
“Short as life may be, you always need to breathe. It is the present that counts, the moments you live. So I stop and contemplate until I feel satiated enough with where, and who I am right now. (…) After that pause, I feel right on time, right where I am supposed to be.”
“The storm is performing an ever-evolving rendering, A natural lullaby that entices me Away from a land of dreams. Immovably, ever so gently, I break free from slumber”
A whole piece of my evening is missing. Erased from my thoughts surgically, leaving a dark, gaping mouth in my memories. A mysterious black hole filled with untouchable matter I can’t see. An illusion of emptiness drawing me in, absorbing all of my attention…
She stepped onto the train, and readily began the process of unwrapping herself. *** Bags, down. Coat, unbuttoned, unzipped. Gracefully, she slips out of it. Scarf, untied, unrolled… …Unleashing her long mane of curly, dark blonde hair.
She invites me in and guides me to her office door. I had expected a dark interior, heavy velvet curtains, Louis XV furniture, old books and antique French tapestry. My imaginings could not have been further from reality.
With every step we took, every word we voiced, our bodies and souls expressed the joy we felt to have crossed paths. Though I would not admit it to her or anyone, deep down, I could already sense that we would be walking as one, from then on.
Warm drops of water are hitting my skin, massaging my flesh, bringing power to my mind and heat to my wintered body. With each pearly touch, my nerves loosen up. Cascading thoughts’ heat take me back to you. Soon enough my hands aren’t mine anymore. They are yours.