Reminsicing In the Moment
Sitting around on the back porch, smoking, laughing, cuddling, it's these quick flashes of color and light that are what I'll remember when we are no more. It's how the light from the kitchen cast a sharp contrast on your green sweater, making it seem as if you were wearing nothing but shadows and faded hillsides. It's watching the trails of smoke make their way from our mouths through the air, intertwining with our words, both finding solace in dissipation. It's reminiscing together while standing alone. It's the inside jokes and random moments pinned to our walls in case we forget why we're here. It's writing stories that never happened with people that never existed. It's the illusions we loved and the reality that began to grow on us.
It's all that we are now that we will eventually cease to be.
It's not death I'm referring to. It's how we'll change when we all finally realize what we're waiting for.
I catch myself looking back prematurely when I should be looking forward. It's walking with my head turned over my shoulder that makes it so easy to slam into walls.
But I can't look forward too soon. Not with comfort and contentment sitting in my lap.It's the warmth that keeps me still just long enough to realize that I am not running out of time, so there is no reason to rush.
It's all that we are now that we will eventually cease to be.
It's not death I'm referring to. It's how we'll change when we all finally realize what we're waiting for.
I catch myself looking back prematurely when I should be looking forward. It's walking with my head turned over my shoulder that makes it so easy to slam into walls.
But I can't look forward too soon. Not with comfort and contentment sitting in my lap.It's the warmth that keeps me still just long enough to realize that I am not running out of time, so there is no reason to rush.