INFLORESCENCE

saponaria

A SPRING DAY, early morning light sprinkles like champagne in stained glass windows and dust cluttered rooms is euphoric on senses. the smell of acrylic paints litter mahogany floors and stained tables stack with paint brushes and you love it, and swim in the tendrils of light and kiss the air with smiles. laughter cluttered the air and hands intertwined, and the smell of lavender shampoo mixes with charcoal and you revel in it for a moment or two, and linger when the bell rings just to take it in one more time. and the feeling comes, the heart ache, the beating on the left of your chest slows for a moment and a thought surfaces, ripples forming as ideas lap on rocky shores and you think. 'i'll miss it.' and you still do.

it's the feeling of reminiscing on a day, or a room, or a moment or a voice.
her voice, his voice, their voice amalgamating into a heavenly symphony of a string quartet.

do you know the feeling? can you think of your own? happiness, dread, loneliness, content.
can you feel it now?

can you hear it? can you taste it? can you smell it? can you feel the impact and can you hold onto it? recall it when i ask and repeat it over and over until i feel content because i too want the heart ache, to live vicariously through your lows and highs and when you laughed and when you cried and when you felt free and alive.

i too want to smile with you, and cry with you but most importantly i want to imagine the moment in which you said 'i'll miss it' and when you looked up to the white pillows on blue sheeted skies and cried because you needed to. Becausing salty tears stain skin and you let the ache spread to your hands as fingers rip at grass in desperation to feel together and pieced with bandaids again.

however utterly painful it is, i yearn to feel it too. to understand, to relate, to be there to kiss the air with smiles and leave trails of despondency where wildflowers will grow. the oceans of eyes rolling on sandy shores and i'll be in the distance surfing waves of emotions until the tide rises and i drown in it, and i sink to the bottom and swim. when i resurface i hope you'll be there to tell me another, to tell me this time how you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt, or how you laughed so wholeheartedly that you felt the soreness rise from your throat.

i hope you will tell me of one minute conversations, and two minute ones too. or the times you planned unspoken arguments or the times you bottled up tears and left them to age for awhile like expensive wines in cellars. i hope you'll tell me of the time you saw your own sun cluttered room with dancing specks of dust, and I hope you'll listen to my own.

because the heartache and the heart break seems right, it seems right with you and you and you and you and-- my god, it feels right with you.