I know every pore that strains when you laugh, but more so when you cry. Because I've walked these roads you've traveled. Stopped to feel the desert sand in my hand. Rolling it up and blowing it away as if it could somehow dissipate the pain as well. Same slightly ahead. Same slightly behind. And I feel you everywhere. Both have now experienced the same pain.
Funny? That we've walked these places? Of ALL the comfort spots in our great city...hmph (we know it means something, for now, denial seems better). No doubt drawn by each others presence. As if by cosmic reason, emotional need, we were able to still satisfy the need for comfort. To be understood by each others Sun print or Moon print. Until time removed the blinders, revealing our true source for each other...each other.
Refashioned Love songs and tones I'm sure reverberated in your head. These thoughts are meant to be. This is not a mistake. Nor a cosmic joke.
But facts, universal facts.
" They" are all pretenders.
I've had them around for so many years.
And the fear that surrounds is the click of a seat belt in passenger side.
To ride the rest of this life as JUST that.
To be subject to drivers twists, turns, anxiety, road temperament, judgement...lack.
This doesn't mean " they" are bad people. " They're" surely not, God forbid.
But there is a glove for every hand and like OJ, if one can...try and make it fit. Visual evidence is not based in belief. " OJ" always was a perfect fit, no matter how dirty it got.
No need to go to Rag's and find another. Unless you believe you're a soul seamstress and can make anything fit! Haha!
If that is true? Student reaches higher heights than teacher, as you've so called me. But remember, I've always ever said it's not me that "taught". Just a wiring diagram I showed you. Happened to be the map of your soul's layout. And my SPS is always dead point! HA!
So really? Who's the teacher then? Not a question for answering. Just another thing on that hot plate of pondering. God, I miss and Love the warmth of that stove! And when we added our pasta thought bubbles, seeing the steam overflow of conversation. Bleeding its way out from the cover, down the sides of the pot and onto our heating element to be evaporated.
I've never had the thought in my head that you talk too much. I've never kept the thought in my head that you're just too much. I drown myself in every word you think to say but leave behind in freckled eyes and beautiful crooked smile, while biting your lip. Even without that, you give you away. Or it's just that I know what you're thinking as you have each thought. And yet...
Still feel such a depth to your soul. Deep waters even my free-diving experience cannot allow me to reach. No wonder that he can't hold you. I don't think I fully could either. But I know by instinct what to do when time comes, and understand why.
But if given the option, just for this sake. I'd ask to go back to where time began and start my search from there with Adam. Looking for the depth of your soul. Maybe by the time we reach each other I'll be somewhere near the depth I can now reach. Only time will tell, and I'm frustrated with her damn secrets ;).
And my soul says, " that look in your eye...reminded me TWICE that I was alive. And it reminded me that you're so worth the fight."
I'd wait for thrice, and so on...and die again and again to be reminded of twice. And I'd fight for the worth that you know not of.
You are infinitely interesting...