This call comes and all things change or at least all things appear to change. Your heart flutters madly and you are estatic, but scared simultaneoulsy you had written this whole situation off as a farce and then it comes back. With the force of a boomerang and it threatens to chop of your head if you don't keep your composure, but maybe you need to have your head taken off. Maybe the razors edge is where you need to be. I remember you so well and I loved you so much, but when I give it away it always comes back. In fact it only comes back when I give it away.
Let the soul sway to a rhythym that offers to expose all your weakness and then you shall know truth that you have never known because it was never shown the light of day. It was always comfortablely numb and then there are those who cut so that they can taste the blood. You are their refuge and each time you step your ego meets its demise. Only the love was real and nothing can change that.
I will see you again when both of least it expect it rationally, but feel it with an intution that nothing will be the same and everything will be the same simulataneoulsy. Caught between your thighs and baptized by a dance that will break all the false ties that I no longer need.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
It is interesting where my intuition has led me. Here I sit, 20 minutes after having made a call, out of the blue, to someone from my past, in an attempt to find resolve, later recognizing that my resolution is simply this idea of my journey in being me with me....and it has nothing to do with him. your entry resonated with me . . . and tonight I am going to dance like a mad woman.
As writer that never sees the intended audience it always great to know that what you wrote resonated with someone. To quote Emeniem "Words are a motherfucker". Though more and more these days I seem to say the most in the silence or just with the ocean sound my breath makes while I am healing.
Post a Comment