A few thousand words exchanged, a few more just because:
It was one of those nights when I didn’t want to sleep. I was brimming with poetic ideas like steam rising from a cauldron, fire smoke drifting into the sky. I had words forming in my head, gliding on the walls of my skull, sinking down into my brain. Words that tasted right in my mouth, words that sucked on my heart.
They came in the moments I was unavailable. But I blocked out the world and stepped out of my feet. I knew it in the very core of my being that nothing was going to be unavoidable. Sitting in silence with broken eyes, I shut off my senses, and tried not to forget the good. Close the shades, lock the door, open my mind. I spoke them because you asked me to.
The wind wrapped around my skin, pulsating in my veins, accompanying the low sound of a piano. Leaves swirled around my feet and crunched beneath them. The wind caught in my throat, washed my face clean. The rain came down impossibly hard, kissing the foliage, soaking my hair to my temples, palms open toward the sky. The drops ran down the crevices of my face, between my eyes, around my cheekbones, under my jaw, spilling unto my collarbone.
It was one of those nights when I wanted to be awake. My life foreshadowed itself. I shared something I never shared before, secrets I wanted to hold inside myself. My heart jumped in my chest, a painful reminder of what threatened to control my thoughts, and I would not see anything else. I let myself fall apart just to see who could put the pieces back. Tighten the screws. Breathe the air back in.
I wanted to confirm something in the middle of the night but couldn’t put my tongue around it. It was a time of putting things in words you would understand. That I would understand. I was sitting up, couldn’t lie down. Couldn’t put a blink in my eye for wondering if when I woke up, would I still be in a world in which your words never disappeared?
I sit here in a vast moment of unrequited love stories and undeniable truths whilst feeding an infatuation that had been starved for months. I stapled the seconds together until the time was no longer distinguishable. I was burned by a chill. Scarred into existence by waiting up for something unknown. It was hope. Wanting it to come to me. Wanting it to come alive and walk through door. Wanting it to rebuild the soul that had slipped away from this world.
But I figured we’d just stay up past the hourglass and create new elements with our minds, create new oceans with our tongues, new mountains with our hearts. This was more important than sleep, at the top of my list, in the bottom of my heart. Sleep could wait. The words could not.
