Telephone Whispers
Our rendezvous on the pale whisper of the telephone scream like matter forming into an infinite number of objects. We are creating a timeline, that once divergent, is becoming ever more convergent until perhaps the moment where our lines combine to be one. I cannot explain how all those words, which in reflection of lost memories seemed hollow, but now are visceral and real, like I thought they were in those faraway times. That sense of uncertainty I once felt about myself in the arms of the past has dissipated quietly like oceanic ripples.
When I wake, looking over and reaching out to his warmth, I am bombarded by hallucinations of forever, of fresh starts, of becoming the woman I always thought I should be. I conjure millions of dreams and in each of them I see his face, lit softly by promises said too soon and aspirations for a not so distant future. And there is fear, haunting and ever present, creating thousands of echos of broken hearts. How can you ever heal from what you think is forever? Long forgotten by the world, the pain of your timeline is your own, and ridges in your heart remain forever, generated with every "I love you" that has ever passed through your lips.
Is forever a promise or a miracle? Or merely a disillusionment? Before that discovery we will keep dreaming pictures of idle dreams filled with flashes of faces and places that have not yet become more than distant speculation. I do know that when I run my fingers down the skin of his back I feel electric in his stimulation, more so than my own, and I want him to give into me and let me hold him gently for an eternity.
When I wake, looking over and reaching out to his warmth, I am bombarded by hallucinations of forever, of fresh starts, of becoming the woman I always thought I should be. I conjure millions of dreams and in each of them I see his face, lit softly by promises said too soon and aspirations for a not so distant future. And there is fear, haunting and ever present, creating thousands of echos of broken hearts. How can you ever heal from what you think is forever? Long forgotten by the world, the pain of your timeline is your own, and ridges in your heart remain forever, generated with every "I love you" that has ever passed through your lips.
Is forever a promise or a miracle? Or merely a disillusionment? Before that discovery we will keep dreaming pictures of idle dreams filled with flashes of faces and places that have not yet become more than distant speculation. I do know that when I run my fingers down the skin of his back I feel electric in his stimulation, more so than my own, and I want him to give into me and let me hold him gently for an eternity.