all things come to an end, in some way or another.
as we lay there, wrapped in the long-out-of-season comforter,
i tried to fall asleep, but alas, only my arm was successful.
the rest of me was acutely aware of anything but sleep;
your hair, still damp from the previous frolic in the rain,
the summer-rain sticky-heat,
the sound of the fan in the window
[both making areas it touches cold and, as a result, reminding those covered of their relative heat]
sounds of cars driving by,
the rumble of the occasional firetruck, lights flashing, creeping it's way down the street
so as not to wake the slumbering residents;
the tiny sounds you make, shifting to and fro,
and my subsequent adoration;
the tear caught halfway between my eye and my cheek;
i hadnt noticed it come out, but there it was,
reminding me that yes, i am affected,
yes, this matters,
yes, i still hurt.
i kept expecting more to follow,
a deluge of water and salt mingled with unwashed face and semi-toxic rainwater;
i gathered my strength in preparation of muscle control,
breathing control,
so as not to wake you...
...but come it did not.
i thought more, tried to focus on the pain,
searched for triggers, but that was it - just the one.
it wasnt until i thought of how sad i was that there was but one tear
that more came, though they no longer mattered, nor were they desired.
they fell without a third thought,
[as the second was to turn my head ever so slightly, so as not to wet your already-damp head or face]
and were [almost]promptly wiped away.
seconds to minutes to hours and here i am,
six-hundred twenty-two days past a kiss my whole life in the making;
four-hundred and ninety-nine days after the making of a whole new "life";
ten days before Our home is Ours no more,
and we move on to many new beginnings.
beginnings and endings were always a theme here, and so yet another conclusion is met;
...this experiment in hiding has come to an end;
this hidden world has now been exposed.
sometimes i still pray for peace,
sometimes i still yearn for comfort.
far too often i wish i were wrong.
but sometimes in your eyes, i *do* see my brilliance shining back at me, and for that i thank you.
~*~
i tried to fall asleep, but alas, only my arm was successful.
the rest of me was acutely aware of anything but sleep;
your hair, still damp from the previous frolic in the rain,
the summer-rain sticky-heat,
the sound of the fan in the window
[both making areas it touches cold and, as a result, reminding those covered of their relative heat]
sounds of cars driving by,
the rumble of the occasional firetruck, lights flashing, creeping it's way down the street
so as not to wake the slumbering residents;
the tiny sounds you make, shifting to and fro,
and my subsequent adoration;
the tear caught halfway between my eye and my cheek;
i hadnt noticed it come out, but there it was,
reminding me that yes, i am affected,
yes, this matters,
yes, i still hurt.
i kept expecting more to follow,
a deluge of water and salt mingled with unwashed face and semi-toxic rainwater;
i gathered my strength in preparation of muscle control,
breathing control,
so as not to wake you...
...but come it did not.
i thought more, tried to focus on the pain,
searched for triggers, but that was it - just the one.
it wasnt until i thought of how sad i was that there was but one tear
that more came, though they no longer mattered, nor were they desired.
they fell without a third thought,
[as the second was to turn my head ever so slightly, so as not to wet your already-damp head or face]
and were [almost]promptly wiped away.
seconds to minutes to hours and here i am,
six-hundred twenty-two days past a kiss my whole life in the making;
four-hundred and ninety-nine days after the making of a whole new "life";
ten days before Our home is Ours no more,
and we move on to many new beginnings.
beginnings and endings were always a theme here, and so yet another conclusion is met;
...this experiment in hiding has come to an end;
this hidden world has now been exposed.
sometimes i still pray for peace,
sometimes i still yearn for comfort.
far too often i wish i were wrong.
but sometimes in your eyes, i *do* see my brilliance shining back at me, and for that i thank you.
~*~