Empty Spaces

What do I miss?

Let's see...

I miss sitting by the window seat of a plane

Staring into the clouds set ablaze by a sun I can't see

The thrill of visiting a new place...country, food, people, music

Getting lost in a whole different world

Struggling to hear my friends over the din of a Friday night at my favourite pub

Waving wildly to catch the attention of the bartender for that next chilled stout

Living out of a suitcase (yes I actually miss that!)

And griping about working across timezones

And I miss you...

Getting lost in those moments

As you held me close

And made me yours

Holding hands, sometimes just touching fingers...

But always, always conscious of each other

I've never minded isolation, or relied too much on proximity

But the separation sometimes kills me

Even years later

When all I want...is to kiss you.

I expect you to...

Have adventures

Fall in love

Get your hearts broken

Have sex with the wrong people

Have sex with the right people

Make mistakes
Make amends

Take a leap

Make a splash

Unleash holy hell on anyone who tries to hold you back

~ The Bold Type

“If a man is only as good as his word, 

then I want to marry a man with a vocabulary like yours.

The way you say dicey and delectable and octogenarian
in the same sentence — that really turns me on.
The way you describe the oranges in your backyard
using anarchistic and intimate in the same breath.

I would follow the legato and staccato of your tongue 

wrapping around your diction 

until listening become more like dreaming 

and dreaming became more like kissing you.

I want to jump off the cliff of your voice 

into the suicide of your stream of consciousness. 

I want to visit the place in your heart where the wrong words die. 

I want to map it out with a dictionary and points 

of brilliant light until it looks more like a star chart 

than a strategy for communication. 

I want to see where your words are born. 

I want to find a pattern in the astrology.

I want to memorize the scripts of your seductions. 

I want to live in the long-winded epics of your disappointments, 

in the haiku of your epiphanies. 

I want to know all the names you’ve given your desires. 

I want to find my name among them,

‘cause there is nothing more wrecking sexy than the right word. 

I want to thank whoever told you 

there was no such thing as a synonym. 

I want to throw a party for the heartbreak 

that turned you into a poet.

And if it is true that a man is only as good as his word 

then, sweet jesus, let me be there 

the first time you are speechless, 

and all your explosive wisdom becomes 

a burning ball of sun in your throat, 

and all you can bring yourself to utter is, oh god, oh god.”

― Mindy Nettifee

Boomerang

Coming back home is like traveling in a time machine.

Does it happen to others as well? I guess it does. 

I step into my room, and I’m transported to 1999. 2000. 

It’s like the there is a whole other me just sitting in that room, waiting. To greet the older me, to remind her of who she used to be.

All the old memories, the old feelings, the dreams - it all comes rushing back. So visceral that I can feel it like it’s part of my present. I can taste those moments on the tip of my tongue, my fingers.

Like time has just stopped, waiting for me to catch up instead of the other way round. 

And my room, the smell, the photographs, the hidden mementos tucked away at the back of a locked up drawer with its rusty hidden key are all waiting alongside.

And I’m back again.

In that life, in that love, in that space between staying young and growing up, innocence and heartbreak, moving on and forever staying still. 

 Almost like I am still that silly, naive girl. Like I never really left. 

Pandora's Box

Has it ever happened to you that you've successfully buried some not so pleasant incident from your past deep into the recesses of your mind. When you can spend most days pretending it didn't happen, or that it doesn't matter? Or when you can get away with distracting yourself every time the thought comes up.

And then someone reopens that conversation. In a well meaning way perhaps. In a bid to get answers which all along you thought you didn't need. And now, suddenly, it's all you can think about. And you're not only left wondering and questioning, you're also overnight, seemingly incapable of shutting it down, of shoving those thoughts back into that safe little box where they had resided for so long. Now the box is no longer a corner of your mind, it's like your whole head. 

You made the mistake of having a conversation. And now your head won't shut up. You tried to give answers. You're left with more questions.

Closure is overrated. Especially when it's one-sided. 

Shadows

I'm scared that I'll forget what it was like

To feel my breath hitch when it comes in contact with yours
My head tucked into the nook of your throat
Breathing in that smell that is all yours

I'm scared that I'll not remember your smell
That reminds me of intimacy
that calms my heart and speeds it up at the same time

Today I only need to close my eyes - and sometimes not even that
And I can recall so vividly what it feels like
Your kiss, your hands, the shape of your body against mine

And I'm so scared of only having these memories
And those memories dimming with time
Of those sensations becoming intangible. Smoke-like

What if one day I can no longer remember?
What if I only think I do?
But those memories, painted by time, are far removed from what used to be
you and me?

What if I only remember a fantasy?
When you have been my biggest reality...

I don't want to search in my mind for those darkened evenings
When you heard you whisper my name against my mouth
I want to remember the cadence of your heartbeat...so familiar against my ear

I want to remember the exact words you said - sometimes unexpected, always precious
The dips and planes my fingers traced
The sound of that throaty laughter of yours

But I think it will be difficult
When I can't seem to remember to smile myself

How do I hold on to you. Us?
Can you help me? Just help me remember?

Because I'm so scared that I'll forget. And scared that I never will.

Desire is easy to fight.
Especially when the only weapon desire possesses is attraction.

It's not so easy when you're trying to win a war against the heart.

~ Maybe Someday