Cooling Off the Fire of My Longing

The breath you took before your body turned limp, felt to me like rising too quickly, feeling a rush of blood to the head. My head became light and my body was drowsy, as if I was dowsed with an antihistamine. My vision faded to black and even though I blinked and widened my eyes, I couldn't see a thing; not even you. Come back to me. I will nurture your weak body back to health. I wouldn't hesitate to solve you with my kiss. I squirmed nervously in my seat trying to keep my composure because I wanted to do the things that my hands are not powerful enough to perform. I looked at my palms and wondered what they were worth if I could not even ease your pain? 

I paused to examine myself. My body: paralyzed from the tension racing through the electrical circuits that replaced my veins. My foot: shaking uncontrollably, counteracting my anxiety, secretly calming me. My eyes: moving swiftly, gazing upon every surface suspiciously as if it had wronged me. Moments passed where I sighed and changed positions to break up the monotony of this helplessness. I could have sworn the entire theater heard the beating of my chest with every silent moment.

Buzz Buzz. Don't worry okay? Buzz Buzz. She will be fine. Buzz Buzz. Hey relax, she is doing okay. . . Buzz Buzz. Stop worrying. Buzz Buzz. Buzz Buzz. Buzz Buzz. . .

Patience is really testing me. I must sit back and let time heal this without interference. The gap in time and space between us is agonizing. Because in my head, I'm pacing in your waiting room, I'm staring at my shoes. I blink again, and I'm sitting in this theater, even farther away from you, going in and out of range, hearing words of poetry but not comprehending what some of them are because my mind is elsewhere, my thoughts are with you.

Oh City of Lost Angels, How I Love You So. .

My beautiful city. My first love. I cannot escape from the tight grip you've got me under. Your eyes are too dreamy to look away for too long. And even when you disregard my heart with traffic and gloomy skies I still come running back to you. You send your lovers on long windy roads full of detours and pot holes but each and every one of us believe in our naive hearts that we can overlook your flaws! Your melodies saturate the air and I fall in love with you all over again. I try to act like you don't mean much, that I'd rather run away from you and never return, but you've got a way of luring me back with your sunshine, bright colors and hypnotizing music. It's not always beautiful but unlike most, I can say that I can wear my summer skin the majority of the year.

So Superwoman and I, ahem, Mystic Moon and I had the great realization that living in our city is like dating a musician (no offense Nush). Dammit dammit dammit. I always fall for the creative ones.

Some Parts of Me Need Fixing.

I wish that it wouldn't get the best of me every single time. I can only ignore this feeling momentarily. It's takes everything out of me to neglect the apprehension of you, but I cannot. I believe that I'm holding my breath but in all actuality, you've knocked the wind out of me. My skin feels raw from the salty tears and all of a sudden my sleeves aren't dry enough to wipe my face. The tingly feeling now burns the more I rub my eyes to get a clearer perspective. I am tired now because you took all of my energy, I'm weak for you now. I hate to love you and I can't seem to let you go. I listened to the phone call and learned the news of your current state and it changed me. It took me back to the place that I know so well but dread tremendously. He watched me and said that my whole demeanor changed. I've been walking around trying to release you from my body but pacing just made me more anxious. He told me that maybe I am abandoning you in the same way. . . I was. I don't believe that I want anything to do with you, but my body, my heart tells me otherwise. Loving you hurts too much. I'm conflicted all over again, or did this ever leave to begin with? You have an exceptional talent in throwing me into confusion.

I just might need someone to hold my face, let the tears stream if the so choose and tell me something better follows this.

Between Me, You, and Liberation

When I close my eyes to dream, I only have one visitor. She dwells in my slumber. She holds me there. I remember the very first time we met under these circumstances and I was gently but ungratefully awoken by the sun rays peering through my window one Sunday morning. It was a sweet dream. I would have rather slept for a lifetime just to be near her. If only you could see into me. We've embraced more than once, kissed more than once, and cried only once. I have realized that I'm bending the lines between slumber and wakefulness. I feel fully alive with or without my eyes open. The silent movies in my head become animated when the ink from my pen reaches the pages of my. . . The ink is the only lifeline for them. It's too surreal to deny its value. I feel the breezes and rays of sunshine. I feel everything that touches me. It's simple. It's only physics. . . Sadly enough, it's not all entirely fulfilling. Are we living in a dreamworld? Don't answer that rhetorical question. Living, breathing, reaching, nonetheless. I may not fall asleep to your voice in the night, or always wake up to your eyes, but we meet in the middle. The proximity between you and me is elongated in the day but the silver lining is reached in the black of the night. Interestingly enough, when the sun shines for me, the moon shines for you, so we're always near. . . Just not quite close enough. And even when I'm afraid, I squeeze my eyes shut and somehow my fear is released. Even if it's just for a moment, I'm safe in your arms. When darkness falls it's exhilarating. I'm not afraid of the dark. 

My dreams are like streams of consciousness: raw and passionate in its nature, climactic and satisfying. My dreams are timeless. Can't you see? 

Time. 

The essence of it. 

How easy it is to waste it. 

How we yearn for more. . & ask about where it went. 

It passes our shadows ands shows up on our faces. 

Time. 

Never works for us, and always seems against us. . .

Count 

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, years

Time.

Live while you still have it

Breathe while you still own it

Your smiles are timeless

The only evidence shown that time has passed are the rising and falling of the moon. It's dragging its feet but it's bringing me closer to you. I can be patient. I'll think I'll see you tonight, maybe. Bonne Nuit.

Now I lay me down to sleep. . . She rested her head upon my chest. Sensed liberation in between breaths. . .