I would have loved you even if you packed my throat with hot stones.
You have to be able to write some people out of your mouth the same way they walk out of your life.
With little respect if not none. In total silence and not a second beat.
You have to do it with so much grace they are left with hiccups of your innocence.
Lent. A time where Christians give up a habit for 40 days.
Yet. Here I am. Commiting to writing you a poem a day.
This is the only way I know how to love you. I am so glad you’re not religion.
Today I woke up to the sight of my bones collapsed around my body
And my heart hiding behind the shadows.
Where are you?
We’ve fought so hard.
We won battles and lost the war.
We just want to hear your heart.
I have gone too many nights without saying goodnight.
Give me one fix.
I won’t wake up with your name splashed across my pillow.
Tomorrow will be better.
It won’t feel like it’s been four years.
One last dose.
Promise, I wont come back for more.
Read the first part here: https://ideasandwhatnots.wordpress.com/2017/02/08/red-a-series/
I love you.
On most days I feel it coming up my throat and I have to close my eyes. So that the universe does not stand still. So that I don’t run back to you.
I love you – some days though, I have to pack it up and leave it on my pillow and go on with my day.
It’s been four years – my heart stays faithful and true.
If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you. Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you. Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I.
– Lang Leav (Memories)