(no subject)
Jacky:
Because some mornings i wake up next to him with the sunlight falling across our two legs intertwined in the warm sheets and i don't want to move him because he is sleeping so quietly beside me with his heavy breaths like when you're little and they always sound like they won't quite make it so i watch, just to make sure of him, or the days i'm thinking of walking down the streets of boston with you this summer, wrecking havoc on newbury st. or maybe just enjoying the combination of cigarettes and bare feet and green grass and blue skies on the common, talking of a revolution that is already is motion while children play in the sprinklers nearby, or when we were standing at the top of the empty construction site, the building that by fall will be full of people but for now is just us two of us, and i can feel the pull from all sides, like being at the center of a storm, the pull that used to overwhelm me before, that she was lost to, but for once all i can think about is how beautiful seeing the lights of halifax with you is, or when i think of how someday i might push pass vendors and streetcarts on the crowded roads of Nepal, the mountains all purple and burning, rising from the low clouds, or the sounds of my footsteps on white marble as i wander the louvre, or music and light and people's voices pouring into the narrow alleyway in Buenos Aires. All of this makes me so glad that I'm not seventeen, that none of us are anymore, that we got to see that there is more than that, than seventeen and brookine and high school. There was pain, and there still will be more, more than we'll probably think we can take, but we will, because you're here and I'm here, we made it. And I am so glad, glad because I will see you soon and it is spring and there can be love and there is still so much to do, still so much to see.
Because some mornings i wake up next to him with the sunlight falling across our two legs intertwined in the warm sheets and i don't want to move him because he is sleeping so quietly beside me with his heavy breaths like when you're little and they always sound like they won't quite make it so i watch, just to make sure of him, or the days i'm thinking of walking down the streets of boston with you this summer, wrecking havoc on newbury st. or maybe just enjoying the combination of cigarettes and bare feet and green grass and blue skies on the common, talking of a revolution that is already is motion while children play in the sprinklers nearby, or when we were standing at the top of the empty construction site, the building that by fall will be full of people but for now is just us two of us, and i can feel the pull from all sides, like being at the center of a storm, the pull that used to overwhelm me before, that she was lost to, but for once all i can think about is how beautiful seeing the lights of halifax with you is, or when i think of how someday i might push pass vendors and streetcarts on the crowded roads of Nepal, the mountains all purple and burning, rising from the low clouds, or the sounds of my footsteps on white marble as i wander the louvre, or music and light and people's voices pouring into the narrow alleyway in Buenos Aires. All of this makes me so glad that I'm not seventeen, that none of us are anymore, that we got to see that there is more than that, than seventeen and brookine and high school. There was pain, and there still will be more, more than we'll probably think we can take, but we will, because you're here and I'm here, we made it. And I am so glad, glad because I will see you soon and it is spring and there can be love and there is still so much to do, still so much to see.