The Urge To Feel Your Face, and Blood Rushing To Paint My Handprint
Sometimes I say too much; and sometimes it’s not enough
But I’ll never hold you back from something you want so bad…"
… I even find it funny when you fart. (Did someone step on a duck and then close a squeaky door?)
On Monday morning, as you showered, trying to rinse the soap from your eyes, you looked sad. You always look sad the day you leave. And I feel the sadness. I feel the distance stretch out between us for all of those days. Our lives together did not begin as we’d planned or hoped. We’ve had our downs. We’ve had our way, way downs. But maybe that was for the better. Maybe we learned something valuable. Maybe without that stumble, we’d never have made it. Some people have called it our warning sign. But without a burning beacon, how does one find their way through the dark and storm?
Sometimes I’m afraid, for lots of reasons. But you make me brave. Just promise me you’ll never get sick and tired of me. I have a fear of being replaced. Alternatively, never forget that for so long, you hoped for me. Take me for granted, and as the water of a stream, I will rush beyond.
On the back of the bike (riding bitch- heh), holding your warmth against me, charging into the night, not always sure where we’ll end up, I’ve almost never felt more freedom. I come alive.