7.11/22
Gently a strand of his hair falls onto his cheek.
so elegant... how he reads poetry.
Time stops in the blue room, I can't hear myself think - I am only listening to him.
His words of mystery, I am desperate to learn to speak, to understand.
The way he sings along to the songs I chose, the songs I live by - his lips travelling along curious in the lyrics, his fingers dancing on my thigh to the beat of the melody, my melody.
He is an artist.
Looking over at me he observes my breath, my rose cheeks, my lips - his lips..
They meet.
With trust I fall back into a cloud of timeless peace. He put me there.
Placed my head onto the pillow and drew his hand on my waist wanting to keep me by his side.
He pushed away - I am grasping for his lips like they're air.
The look of comfort, the look of disbelief I am his. In this very moment with his hand around my neck - he owns me and I will follow his lead without sanity.
His, that is what I am.
I have let go, I am no longer in control.
Panic. it does set in. I remind it to leave, there is no more space in the freedom of my mind, in his words the panic had shred like my blue.
How does he do that?
How am I giving up the one thing I have finally earned - control - I exchange it for freedom without a second thought.
In his presence I am always free.
I without a break move from one place to another, never staying still - yet, his ambivalence keeps me.
Ambivalence is the one word he embodies that I don't understand.
The certainty in the definition is what makes him.
We are and always will be just like this poem.. unfinished.
YOU ARE READING
The Sunflower diary
Poetry(..How to live with heartbreak) This book holds all my thoughts put into potentially good poetry. I'm hoping you'll like it and even empathize with it. Have a good read :)
