Ocean in the Sky

The clouds resemble ribbons of waves crashing over one another, swirling and swaying in mesmerizing, fluid motion. Every here and there, a ship blinking red and white will pass through its currents, heading in some other direction within and beyond the heavens. A dim and distant moonset emanates from somewhere far off, but not enough to outshine the delicate twinkles of stars light-years away and certainly not enough to overpower the dynamic pair of sparkling, slate blue seas washing over you.

Hearts hammer in their cages, sparkles radiate from their black abyss, words unspoken remain on the tongues of those enraptured by the inexplicable language of silence.

Waves of thoughts, the heavens watching, compasses gone awry. Thudding and pounding heartbeats echo in your ears, beneath your hands. Everything is confusingly okay and the cold is no longer a worry so long as he holds you. Words and more words flood your mind, a bottomless ocean, not wanting to ever find the end.

Just days before, your best friend wished you the best and to be hopeful because her life is uphill while memories of your past have still driven you down this road of delirium, months later. But now you think, in elation, what luck she’d struck you with and what kind of twisted fate you’d been dealt.

How did it come to this? Is this real life?

As real as the warmth of his chest close to yours.

A singular gift from above streaks rainbows across the sky, a thin, fine line, a nuance against the cold black of night, a serendipitous sight.

But you don’t wish.

Because you don’t have to.

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Up in the Air

Your words brought a smile to my face.

No matter how low my mood has dipped, they lift me right back up, pelt me into the stars to dance among them, to beam up at you.

They curl the corners of my lips in guileless and embarrassed, fluttery joy, leaving my heart pounding in momentary excitement.

They have quite literally been with me since day one; I’ve thought about them shamelessly and mercilessly and somehow, they still have not failed to mean as much to me now as when you said them. And they are precisely what has inspired me and helped me through everything I’ve gone through since then.

Sometimes I feel like no other words matter, no other person could possibly top you because no one is so simply incredible as you.

They leave me wondering why I can’t sleep at night, but I’ve figured it out–the sheer anticipation and enthusiasm I have is unfathomable to where dreaming is simply a waste of time because I know exactly what I want and I know exactly how I’m going to get it.

It’s simple.

There are limits to my capabilities and boundaries on my moral compass, but this far exceeds any sort of logic and I’m willing and ready to nosedive right into the madness. It’ll be fun. It’ll be worth it.

Five hundred thousand people know each other. And one of them is you.

Honey, please.

Hypocrites say they’re not hypocrites.

Artists don’t say they’re artists.

Talented people don’t say they’re talented.

Douchebags say they’re not douchebags.

“A car person” doesn’t say they’re a car person.

People who help don’t tell people they help.

Liars say they’re not liars.

Photographers don’t undermine other evidently experienced photographers.

Knowledgeable people don’t discredit others’ intelligence or point out others’ lack of knowledge.

Honorable people don’t seek honor.

Know what you are and don’t proclaim what you’re not because through your actions, everyone you meet will know more than they need to know about you.

This Is How It Feels

To know and to not know.

To wake up to the same Sun every day.

To sleep to the same moonrise every night.

To see your face with every moment of silence.

To remember everything yet nothing at all, the most important things gone a mystery.

To know every bit of logic escaped and to live with it.

To forget everything else.

To never find out.

To be ignorant.

To feel and to be unable to feel ever again.

To have an empty heart yet have it remain the heaviest burden to bear.

To feel regret far worse than ever before.

To be tempted by the maddest of the mad, the most impossible.

To be driven headlong into insanity, resorting to utter desperation.

To be so close yet have it disappear, slide gracefully through your fingertips as you watch the cerulean gemstones shrink in the distance.

To have no logical reason for your torment.

To realize everything imaginable is being done to bridge the gap.

To renounce all else and bathe in the bliss of fantasy.

It’s tantalizing. It’s unfair. What is it for?

Body Language

“Look at your hand.”

My unexpressive, empty palm stares back at me, his voice speaking softly to me on the other end of the call.

“Put down your middle and ring fingers… I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.”

And in that moment, my heart sank at the deepest meaning my hand could possibly express, coming from a love I miss across the country.

Don’t Pray For Me Tonight

It seems like every time he prays for someone, something unfortunate happens to them.

He thinks of you more than he’s thought of anyone else.

He forgets everything he’s ever done with you.

He’s completely forgotten how you met.

He called you beautiful and meant it before anyone else even thought it.

He’s more than likely the first person who’s ever wanted to kiss you.

Nostalgia.

That’s a good word.

Your birthday is one of the few things he remembers, much to your surprise.

He’s genuinely excited for you and the pursuit of your amazing, musical dreams.

He gets butterflies when you appreciate his unfathomably sweet words. He does, not you. The butterflies are in his stomach, not yours.

He so desperately wants to know how your life is going, how you’ve been.

When he’s near death, more than ever does he think about you.

You are amazing.

He’s willing to write you a poem for very narrowly missing your birthday.

It’s a shame you’d only spent so little time together before he left.
He’s changed so much since then–he’s grown a couple inches.

You miss him.

So much.

‘I love you’ took more than four years for him to say and now it’s a customary [butterfly-inducing] salutation.

December 16th couldn’t get here faster.

Hot Chocolate

I can’t wait to be with you this winter, all winter long.

I can’t wait to cuddle with you every day.

You keep me and my hands warm when it’s freezing outside.

You make me feel better when I’m feeling ill.

You cheer me up when I’m down in the dumps.

You take me back to my childhood when I came across you for the first time.

Seeing you brings back the warm, fuzzy feeling of communion at Christmas and love and companionship.

Cradling you in my hands, I felt so cozy and comfortable.

I couldn’t ever forget the memories I had with you and all the memories you and I will share in years to come.

Your company reminds me of all the times you shared with my family and I.

You make me happier than anyone ever could, make me more energetic.

Everyone else loves you, too, because you remind them of what goodness is and take them back in time to their own childhood.

I’m so excited to indulge in your sweetness and warmth, to never want to let you go, to wish I had you with me on an icy winter night.

I miss you every day you’re not with me, and when you are, my day is made with you simply being there.

Cottonwood & Shooting Stars

I’ll think about you and forget the world.

It’s a blessing and a curse, really–I’m distracted without you.

But I can’t help feeling relief when I remember that, along with all the things that trouble me, I have something as good as you to remind me I’ll live in the end.

You remind me to breathe. You snuff out the flame in my eyes. You lighten the heavy burden on my chest. You reduce me to hiccuping gasps for air after a good laugh. You forgive me.

I don’t know what I’d do, what I’d be, without you.