In missing him, I felt the continuation of hollowing. I lived in memory. Flipping to each page of our three month tale to find a jump start in inspiration. At times I was surrounded by people and chatter, and I would hit my auto-pilot button, while zooming off into the piece of the past I had collected.
I wanted crawl back into the tapestry of his cotton skin. When I found myself buzzing in the face of anxiety, I flew to the sound of his voice that lived in the center of calm. When the prickle of loneliness crept up and nestled behind my neck, I dove back into the crook of his arms. When I wanted to run to him I did; letting my lids fall, and our chapters race over me as they came.
I’m going to take with me the cotton from your skin.
The one that cloaks me.
I’m going to take with me the electricity from your lips.
The one awakens me.
I’m going to take with me the strength from your arms.
And the love they give me.
I’m going to take with me the purity from your eyes.
The one that caged me.
I’m going to take with me a bottle of your words.
To remember how you fed me.
I’m going to take with me the strings from your heart, and the sand from under your nails from where me met. I’m going to take with me the thunder at the end of your tongue and the story we wrote in the cupboard of your ribcage.
I’m going to take with me your spirit tangled in the spirals of your hair.
People asked me how I could possibly love someone after a mere few days. Awkwardly, I never had an answer. But I knew how, it was just too hard to articulate. When we were in the same room, the air became calm, and the parts of my skin that always felt rigid, began to collapse in comfort. I knew because every thought that poured off of his tongue, I could never drink fast enough. Because I could think as loudly as I wanted around him, and he let me stumble until I excavated every thought. When his were lips on my most wanting flesh, traveling to the area of electric desire, I watched the way his shoulders moved. The elegant muscles of his back, choreographed perfectly; the tangled dance of my beautiful creature. I knew I loved him because all of the wants, and needs, and secrets, I held in the romantic attic of my mind, he echoed back to me; in our strange, and sometimes overwhelming connection. I knew I loved him because even as a writer, and even though we don’t share the same first languag,he some how always had the words for the ones I didn’t. He was perfect in every atom of my vision. He was the feeling of both relief and exhilaration after the first drops of a hot shower. He was the companion for the lonely gaps between my fingers. He was the ocean that crashes with your eardrums, always creating brief moments of delirious ecstasy. The perfect mold against my body. He was home.
Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it, you must take mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it." - Eat Pray Love.
Lover, lifer, writer. Journalism student, and Vancouver freelancer. This is my personal blog with a lot of my own poetry and intimate entries. I am continuously inspired by successful, talented and innovative women, and I try to reflect that as much as possible. I hope you enjoy.