If She…

were mine…

It’s difficult to capture how much I belong to Her in the mere words I scratch at this screen. Last year today I picked Her up from Her job so she’d make it to the rehearsal we had together. There’s something in the act of caring for another human that reminds you of being human. It’s such a pure form.

The cold air is creeping in my window now, it reminded me of the nights pulling Her close; just trying to keep Her warm so she wouldn’t want to go home — it was selfish — I figured that as long as I kept Her warm, she’d stay with me.

I never knew this subtle cool of fall could bring forth the flood of memories. The nights walking with her on the pier. Holding Her under the yellow glow of the parking lot lights. Trying to kiss Her the first time and getting rejected.

And it was all okay. Can you understand that? Can you feel that dear reader? Can you know what it’s like to hold that woman in your arms? To hold possibly the best future you could dare imagine in your arms? To actually be touching it?

This week I hope to give Her some of my words, perhaps if I’m eloquent enough I’ll penetrate Her wall? Perhaps…

Everything I know about women and human nature and men and time… time, especially, says it is hopeless. And if it fails, fuck… where do you go from there? Drown yourself in distraction? In dedication? In numbing?

It sounds so defeatist but I have been defeated so damn much…

If she were mine, I think today would be a great day for some poetry.

When She laughed, sometimes it was as if it surprised her. She’d gasp for that air as her eyes alighted with the realization of how funny she found something and she’d laugh. It was my music.

Our Love Found A Path Under the Cool Fall Sky.

After a summer of unrelenting hot nights, we met.
And those nights got cooler, we warmed to another.
We found all the nights had been cold, unable to find
any who could see the tumultuous ocean of thoughts
roaring in our minds. We tumbled from moment to moment
Our minds lonely cold, finding none who could see, hear,
And we met, we met again and again these cold nights.
Often silent, the warm silence between two minds who 
Our words not filling any empty void between us but
simply revealing what was already present. We are of the same
stardust. The same vision and brilliance and, the torment.
We know. 
I could know myself through your eyes so much more than
I realized. To glimpse the universe through the descriptions
that left your lips, your touch was to know myself deeper
to feel a world I had not known, a place in myself I had hidden.
Hidden from a world that does not care to understand, does not
care to examine, a swirl of dreams and pain and want and desire
a swirl that so often burns out of control, a conflagration, a 
fury-fire spun up such that it scorches all nearby, not illuminating
And then we met, again and again. Like new found glasses (yours
fit me so well), a new reflection of the world. 
When I grazed your face with my hand, when I pressed that lock
of golden hair from your cheek.

I knew.

I knew and yet I was afraid to know. It is entirely selfish, Love.
I want to know that world again. We met and we could finally
after so much silence, speak. We could speak! Truthful words.
We could admit to our sight, to each other and we could …
know, the moment when you look at another being.

That moment where it means more than you can … know.

It wasn’t as if I fell in love with you. It was as if I discovered
how in love with you I already was. All those silent moments. 
The loud ones. All those moments where I desperately tried
to press you closer so you’d know this, that I knew.

We spent so many minutes under the stars. They played witness
to our precious perceptions being unveiled to one another. They
watched as we began to see a world that neither thought existed.
A world where we weren’t so very alone. You are not alone.

We are not. We have in each other the illumination of so much more.
We know.

I kissed your eyes for their sight is precious to me.
See with me, Amanda. See the world with me.