Today I’ll sit right in the middle of it,
in the thick, dense, lush bustle of love.
It does not do me any good
to exist on the periphery of this one.
Feel the pulse of my heart beat
as it runs through your finger tips
and turns your lips the richest mix
of red and pink. Forget all future things;
now is for sinking into our spirits,
the way yours sparkles through your eyes
and I’ve lost all doubt in universal signs,
spellbound in this spotlight for as long as it shines.
You’ve conjured up an aura that preoccupies my mind
with fascination for how the chapters in our stories
might use the time these bodies
find themselves writing the same lines
on the same side of the page.
The human heart
in search of a hand
that will hold it when the ache starts,
sharp bursts that break apart
our cold exteriors, tearing a hole
through calm atmospheres.
Craving someone else just to be here
to hear us shatter
and understand our cracks in the pavement,
how we fall through the gaps out of fear
of losing something worth saving for later.
Clinging onto the bruises that might matter
as if they are clues mapped out on skin.
Wearing ourselves thin,
instinct starving by the second,
till we can’t tell where the road ends
and the souls of our feet begin.
Muddy boots, the sign of a good adventure
breeze-dried to my jeans.
It’s Christmas, and anyone who knows lonely
will know how much this means
to have hands to pull you up.
The wind gives me time to steady my feet,
mist lingering in earnest to softly kiss my cheeks
with afternoon colours, greys and greens and blues
and we could be on top of the world.
Now, more than ever,
I understand nature’s lesson;
a picture really is worth a thousand words.
I think there is a part of me that doesn’t want to feel better.
But the rest of me is desperate to live.
And I don’t mean the breathing;
I mean the joy
the happy endings
the broken hearts
love and adventures and places and people