(no subject)
i remember when this empty box used to be reassuring. i remember my boldness as i typed and typed endlessly, mindtofingerstokeystoyou. and now i wonder why i bother. why i ever thought my words worth breathing life into. i suppose at one time or another, they served as a therapy of sorts and that made sense (made me make sense). but now i am happy(in.love), learning(loving.knowledge) and growing more and more distant from the endless string of beautiful words, phrases tugged through my mind (hand over hand). and oh how i love that my rules only apply to me.
that person, that older me that summoned up love for everything but another committed, like-minded male (noneexisted) has been swallowed.buried.hidden. and it's not to say that secretly, i don't still muse about how beautiful his soft expanse of skin is, don't still soak up the details of drooping eyelids with arcing eyelashes or wish to fall in love with all of life.at.once.always. that's not to say that i don't miss laughing moments with the perfect soundtrack and days that i feel so happy, i find myself without words, and plucking word after word to delicately place or violently slam them into something which preserves.
(and.i.don't.know.who.i.am.explaining.myself.to)
and so it goes. so when i departed my building this morning, i nearly started crying because the moisture suspended in the air smelled like california without the salt, thought about green, vibrant springs riding bikes along a trail in georgia, missed summer and bare legs and skirts and naked feet in the sticky grass. (and, secretly, i miss not knowing and longing and longing and finding beauty in imagining his soft fingertips dancing on my skin).
i miss you (collectively).
that person, that older me that summoned up love for everything but another committed, like-minded male (noneexisted) has been swallowed.buried.hidden. and it's not to say that secretly, i don't still muse about how beautiful his soft expanse of skin is, don't still soak up the details of drooping eyelids with arcing eyelashes or wish to fall in love with all of life.at.once.always. that's not to say that i don't miss laughing moments with the perfect soundtrack and days that i feel so happy, i find myself without words, and plucking word after word to delicately place or violently slam them into something which preserves.
(and.i.don't.know.who.i.am.explaining.myself.to)
and so it goes. so when i departed my building this morning, i nearly started crying because the moisture suspended in the air smelled like california without the salt, thought about green, vibrant springs riding bikes along a trail in georgia, missed summer and bare legs and skirts and naked feet in the sticky grass. (and, secretly, i miss not knowing and longing and longing and finding beauty in imagining his soft fingertips dancing on my skin).
i miss you (collectively).