our planet


you’re just too far away.
the distance leaves salty stains across my heart.
and the closer it comes,
the further it feels.
it should only be happiness, with all that awaits us.
but i miss you more deeply than i ever have before.
[it hurts.]
you’re just
too far
away.

texture 

  
i can still smell you on my sheets
you’re so close but so far
i feel you in my heart
of course
i feel you in my heart.

life and living

what am i even waiting for? divinity? desperation? time? what’s the use in having this fire burning so wildly through my heart if i don’t feel it and feed it?
the air flows through easy breath through unknowing lungs. it’s all right there.

what’s the use in feeling all the beauty in being so close to something unlike me or you and this world we’re told to know.

it’s magic, i get it. and it’s swimming in my bloodstream ready to be poured in ink and words stories and prose.
slowly but surely
and fast burning
and bright,
feeding the fire, walking into the light.

this is mine.

how

  
how did i find you in all of this? how you and how me and how did we come to meet and be so energetically, magically, uncontrollably in love? and with all the time and all the places we could have ever been. then, as much as it’s how, i know without a doubt, it was always going to be you and me. 

he’s my dream in this real life, this real life’s all a dream.

 just six more days to wait.
then,
i’ll be living inside your pockets again,
in the creases of the memories,
scattered along the dream stained threads,
of our past and future,
living tucked inside the crystal brightness of our now now now.
it’s just six more days until we find our physical way back into the perfect, embodied space of love and loving. of easiness and hopefulness
together again. and all the waiting will be worth it,
as it always is.
we’ll be real-life dreaming.
hearts colliding.
changing the way we’re meant to be made, and it’ll be pulling me apart to pull us back and into one another,
double knotting the end to the start.
and so we forever go on.
there’s something so potent about the presence of your real-life flesh and blood.

sky-writing

 the sky is telling me stories. with its golden-hued clouds and glowing setting sun, the darkening and the lightening as time moves constant and along.
things are falling into chanced and beautiful placing. things are coming and going both rapid and slow and i find myself in the middle of it watching it float by in this mysterious happenstance. the difference is
now i see it.
as a ray of sunshine lit a too-near horizon – in all the places you’d never expect it – and i looked up and it caught my eye and i thought of something poignant and right just at that time, it put chills up my spine and goosebumps on my skin.

so many things needed to happen for me to find you.
it’s not crazy, it’s perfect.
like the sky and its stories and the winding trails to understanding the enigmatic electricity that pulses through our veins.
i feel alone / i know you’re there.
the contrast is blinding and beautiful.
i’m not lonely because you’re there, loving me.
and i love you.
bursting
i see you in the stories in the extraordinary, shielding sky we share our days and sleep beneath
and dream beneath
and miss one another
so much
beneath.
the one thing that will bring you back to me.
stories flooding and raining and coursing on the wind
as you fly home.