This is me and you saving the part that you want me to admit the answer to. That the parts between us want to touch, no different than before when we first began exploring about me and you, not lying through my smile.
Remember when I heard you whisper the first time, and you heard me without my speaking? I want to return to that moment, and state of being too. We were powerful then bridging beyond words to a place where sentences and phrases didn’t matter. The spirit speaks when musing and delight take over, along with wonders and desires to know more, to know everything.
My look toward you, into you, was authentic. Was it sad? You knew without a smile what I wanted. You knew as I grabbed my stuff, strong and powerful. You knew where I’d find you in my mind within moments. You knew you’d be there too.
And still I can’t help but cry a little that you didn’t take me away with you in that moment and whisper in my ear the words I’ve known, the language, the words floating above us waiting to be spoken.
When you placed my head gently against yours to hold me closer, I felt all that you know. I heard you say why but you know the answer and its source; because it’s still the same, hidden in your anger, in your lure and my regard. You no longer see through; you connect. You are there now with your eyes. I feel the difference in me now and then, in morning and in evening. My gage is you.
I want to be magic–a force you gravitate toward without reason and even smile when you know the reason. As you are dear to me, especially when I wake, especially when I’m tired. Your fingers run along my arm toward my heart, reminding me to never forget who I am.
An active clarity shining like roots, interspersed inside keeping us safe. My heart knows in silence how you link to aspiring my insides awake. I can write my way to you just as I look up in the sky at a cloud as I float.
Don’t you think that it’s time to be more than we are, more than our eyes sensing. You can take me now to the part where our worlds collide in the dimly-lit room. A candle lights the way to look at what we are, still eyes gazing in the direction of us, shadows behind us flickering.
© r.e.l. 10/8/15
Submitted to Rebelle Society 10/13/15