A sketch of a black comb in a frame brings back the memory of a cold metallic plate etched for the press. The little ducks in a row, writing small noises, the encouragement to keep making strange and tiny plates for prints. I felt free. The feeling of being understood, even when I don't understand myself. It's freeing. Looking out the window, allowing the wind to whip my hair, I felt as though I was in the right place at the wrong time. There was something about the air, the chill of the wind, the blue Honda, the man behind the wheel. He just listened and I let my thoughts soar, not always out loud. The difference between having to shout and being allowed to be quiet were stark enough to stand out in my mind. The peacefulness of hearing the wind, feeling the cool air, the smell of fumes still in my nose. I blink and I am back in the room. My nose is cold from sitting so still, deeply lost in thought. I take in a sip of coffee and it is perfect. The temperature, the sweetness, the flavor. Warm steam rises to my nostrils, a hint of flavoring, which causes my eyes to close slowly. I cannot answer plainly. Words are suddenly so vastly terrible at describing how I feel at the moment. I manage to reply, but not without my mind feeling failed for lack of understanding. I sound as if I am lying, my tone always able to show all my cards. He hasn't caught the meaning quite yet. That I am underplaying my thoughts, often saying nothing in reply hoping that the language will manifest itself for me. Sometimes, it does.
What do you say to a stranger that has a ring full of keys? Your finger slid down the palm of my hand and I felt as though I had held on too long for a moment like that. My femur came alive and I closed my eyes. I wanted depth and you looked at me and dove. I held onto your arm, feeling at home with intimacy procured like magic. I was imagining a point where I would feel comfort at this level again, but I had never imagined it would be in this form. I don't know what I was trying to do, fitting a circle into a square. Sometimes, I still wonder, how right or wrong was I? There was a debt to be paid and I had done my share. I had come out clean on the other side, gained more insight than I ever thought possible. I understood my role in placing a thumb on anyone's forehead can make all sorts of things come alive. I wanted my soul to come alive. I wanted to feel what they had felt, just from knowing me, I wanted to reciprocate. I simply could not. I felt broken and wondered why I had so much inside that didn't want to attach to anyone else. I thought my heart had been permanently disabled. I had begun to heal from being told I was terrible and then I had wondered, was I wrong?
There are a lot of moments where we question. The energy can be felt and bounced back and being so used to holding the mirror I thought perhaps I would not reach this point in my lifetime. I held onto hope, but accepted that life had simply not been in my cards so I might as well make the best of it while I am here. If that means I just stay alone, so be it. I also needed to try to find it. I couldn't just roll over and wait when I felt so very much the urge to move. Tell me the part that I can't feel in you, deep in your mind there are words that I understand, but cannot hear. The words come out of you and all I can do is just agree and process. Some things are outside of explanation. Other worldly. Coincidence and happenstance gripped around actuality and purpose. Sense and fate make haste in a time such as this, where everything feels as though the edges are slipping away. Fading into nothingness. I can't help but to feel as though it is divine timing. Perhaps the world really is melting down. This is the time to find yourself within another. To see the light that matches you. To come together at your fullest while you feel it from within another being. The love that you have been sending will find it's way back to you, or so I had always hoped.
I didn't know that I knew this place until I thought deeply. Feeling the pavement beneath my feet, seeing the death of winter still clinging to the forest, and yet, all I could think was, this is perfect. Walk me in the woods, take my hand, warm my soul, all the while your spine tingles up and down. I'm left with memories. The ones that are placed in a special folder, for peaceful moments. They seep back into my consciousness and I smile. The feelings that come back up are echos of my past, the ones I suddenly remember and I cannot explain fast enough. I want so badly to tell you everything all at once but my mouth remains still. I look into a ring full of honey and you tell me what is on your mind before my brain had a chance to form the words. I just keep waiting for the moment to put it all down, I try, but I couldn't focus when I was still getting information. I couldn't spin the wheel faster so the silence between us only slowed the processing down to allow for expansion.
I had never felt a power like that before. Lighting searing through muscle and bone. Lighting up nerve endings that had never been known previously. You spoke of sparks and chemistry. The words hung deep in my body, all I could picture was a sterile pipette pulling liquid, changing the subject so I had time to breathe. The silence pleasantly broken by your prose. Simply put, you speak your mind and I am grateful for it. The words are still not there and I gasp at dim blue light where your eyes watch me. You tell me, the way you look at me, and I feel my brain ignite. I had been watching my own thoughts on your lips come alive, which strikes me as sharp. I get the feeling as I had seen you recognize in my tone. There is truth in it, but there is more to the story. I don't feel a gut reaction, I feel your warmth. It is recognized somewhere deep down that I had experienced connections in pieces, fragments of the whole, but none as a set. I have no issue to fit where you are missing and arms wrap around me soothing me deeply. You call this a puzzle, one where all the pieces fit perfectly. Aligning everything where it had never felt quite like this before. There is a question of reality, seeking hidden meaning in the strange and wonderful. I search in my wildest dreams, what is wrong with you, out loud, followed by a belly laugh that you cannot contain. You boldly say the things I am pondering to shyly say into your neck. I am both surprised and delighted, unable to explain either. We both manage to say in our own way that same thing and our understanding of the cycle of intimate processing is revealed in layers, each one more delicious than the last.
What do you say to a stranger that has a ring full of keys? Your finger slid down the palm of my hand and I felt as though I had held on too long for a moment like that. My femur came alive and I closed my eyes. I wanted depth and you looked at me and dove. I held onto your arm, feeling at home with intimacy procured like magic. I was imagining a point where I would feel comfort at this level again, but I had never imagined it would be in this form. I don't know what I was trying to do, fitting a circle into a square. Sometimes, I still wonder, how right or wrong was I? There was a debt to be paid and I had done my share. I had come out clean on the other side, gained more insight than I ever thought possible. I understood my role in placing a thumb on anyone's forehead can make all sorts of things come alive. I wanted my soul to come alive. I wanted to feel what they had felt, just from knowing me, I wanted to reciprocate. I simply could not. I felt broken and wondered why I had so much inside that didn't want to attach to anyone else. I thought my heart had been permanently disabled. I had begun to heal from being told I was terrible and then I had wondered, was I wrong?
There are a lot of moments where we question. The energy can be felt and bounced back and being so used to holding the mirror I thought perhaps I would not reach this point in my lifetime. I held onto hope, but accepted that life had simply not been in my cards so I might as well make the best of it while I am here. If that means I just stay alone, so be it. I also needed to try to find it. I couldn't just roll over and wait when I felt so very much the urge to move. Tell me the part that I can't feel in you, deep in your mind there are words that I understand, but cannot hear. The words come out of you and all I can do is just agree and process. Some things are outside of explanation. Other worldly. Coincidence and happenstance gripped around actuality and purpose. Sense and fate make haste in a time such as this, where everything feels as though the edges are slipping away. Fading into nothingness. I can't help but to feel as though it is divine timing. Perhaps the world really is melting down. This is the time to find yourself within another. To see the light that matches you. To come together at your fullest while you feel it from within another being. The love that you have been sending will find it's way back to you, or so I had always hoped.
I didn't know that I knew this place until I thought deeply. Feeling the pavement beneath my feet, seeing the death of winter still clinging to the forest, and yet, all I could think was, this is perfect. Walk me in the woods, take my hand, warm my soul, all the while your spine tingles up and down. I'm left with memories. The ones that are placed in a special folder, for peaceful moments. They seep back into my consciousness and I smile. The feelings that come back up are echos of my past, the ones I suddenly remember and I cannot explain fast enough. I want so badly to tell you everything all at once but my mouth remains still. I look into a ring full of honey and you tell me what is on your mind before my brain had a chance to form the words. I just keep waiting for the moment to put it all down, I try, but I couldn't focus when I was still getting information. I couldn't spin the wheel faster so the silence between us only slowed the processing down to allow for expansion.
I had never felt a power like that before. Lighting searing through muscle and bone. Lighting up nerve endings that had never been known previously. You spoke of sparks and chemistry. The words hung deep in my body, all I could picture was a sterile pipette pulling liquid, changing the subject so I had time to breathe. The silence pleasantly broken by your prose. Simply put, you speak your mind and I am grateful for it. The words are still not there and I gasp at dim blue light where your eyes watch me. You tell me, the way you look at me, and I feel my brain ignite. I had been watching my own thoughts on your lips come alive, which strikes me as sharp. I get the feeling as I had seen you recognize in my tone. There is truth in it, but there is more to the story. I don't feel a gut reaction, I feel your warmth. It is recognized somewhere deep down that I had experienced connections in pieces, fragments of the whole, but none as a set. I have no issue to fit where you are missing and arms wrap around me soothing me deeply. You call this a puzzle, one where all the pieces fit perfectly. Aligning everything where it had never felt quite like this before. There is a question of reality, seeking hidden meaning in the strange and wonderful. I search in my wildest dreams, what is wrong with you, out loud, followed by a belly laugh that you cannot contain. You boldly say the things I am pondering to shyly say into your neck. I am both surprised and delighted, unable to explain either. We both manage to say in our own way that same thing and our understanding of the cycle of intimate processing is revealed in layers, each one more delicious than the last.
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