July 19, 2008
(inhale)
where do i begin? my hands hold no order, transfer no look, no grace, cannot contain the red pulse of the heart. only the blue throb over the page; small, drying in ways not mine. i cannot put my finger to the exact date, or time, or reason i first fell. but i did, and only to keep falling into this abyss, while being subsequently wrapped snug around your finger; cold yet safe.
i like the days that begin with your voice whispering past the satellites, past the sleeping children, past the empty streets… and the days that end with the slight tremor of your touch, and a little bit of how you taste like (sweat, musk, and hope). i like the way you laugh at your own jokes, the way you walk like the whole world is watching. i like spending time with you just to unwind and talk about everything ranging from your latest shopping rendezvous to stuff about God. i like listening to you talk. i like how we sit at weird places, quiet and touching noses. i like how we’re polar opposites, how the scales hardly tip because we fit so well in this balancing act. i like holding your hands, because they are not rough and uncouth, but just the right size. i like having supper with you, because we order the same food and understand each other. i like sky-watching with you and discussing geography, politics and the stupidity of mankind. i like how expression comes seemingly so easy to you, as opposed to my perpetually awkward fumbling for words. above all, i like you for everything you are, are not, will be, and never will be. i like you in a way i like no one else, and have never liked anyone else, and will never like anyone else.
(exhale)
where do i begin? my hands hold no order, transfer no look, no grace, cannot contain the red pulse of the heart. only the blue throb over the page; small, drying in ways not mine. i cannot put my finger to the exact date, or time, or reason i first fell. but i did, and only to keep falling into this abyss, while being subsequently wrapped snug around your finger; cold yet safe.
i like the days that begin with your voice whispering past the satellites, past the sleeping children, past the empty streets… and the days that end with the slight tremor of your touch, and a little bit of how you taste like (sweat, musk, and hope). i like the way you laugh at your own jokes, the way you walk like the whole world is watching. i like spending time with you just to unwind and talk about everything ranging from your latest shopping rendezvous to stuff about God. i like listening to you talk. i like how we sit at weird places, quiet and touching noses. i like how we’re polar opposites, how the scales hardly tip because we fit so well in this balancing act. i like holding your hands, because they are not rough and uncouth, but just the right size. i like having supper with you, because we order the same food and understand each other. i like sky-watching with you and discussing geography, politics and the stupidity of mankind. i like how expression comes seemingly so easy to you, as opposed to my perpetually awkward fumbling for words. above all, i like you for everything you are, are not, will be, and never will be. i like you in a way i like no one else, and have never liked anyone else, and will never like anyone else.
(exhale)
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so you see, nothing much has changed. for a more accurate version though, just replace all of the L words with 'love'.
happy special day, my favourite weirdo!
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