Breaking up with friends is harder than ending relationships.
If we are friends, this is for you.
Between the lines on a grocery list, nestled somewhere after Lysol but before arugula, is all the tiny ways you live your life. Your idiosyncrasies from how you clean the … Continue reading Mundane Intimacy
I thought I was done with the cool kids until I realized they were my friends.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be the reason someone else grew tall?
I use “you” as a pronoun for more than one person though each is special. Each of my yous makes my heart beat in another key. Some keys aren’t as common now. Some haven’t played in years. For those yous, the ones I’ve lost touch with, this is my love letter to you. This is how I remind you that even in the silence, I am rooting for you. The void between us is filled with well wishes from me to you.
Mysterious forces make magic of some meetings. The way your eyes made gold circles around your pupils in the sunlight transfixed me. Some people peel away everything life coached me to acquire. Some people dissolve time with their words. You encompass both forces of nature. My armored manners fell to silly sentiments when I met you. We were a pair of poorly behaved third-graders: all jokes and joy. Words spilled with the ease of decades around someone I’d known for minutes.
Rapid closeness triggers our walls. Trust hasn’t been established and suddenly, we both feel the resistance of life around us. We saw each other left, were reminded in little intermissions that we each had lives before each other. Connection motivates people to overpromise, but we were both promised to so many other things. Our time never felt like ours.
I don’t want my “what’s up” to trespass on your space. If this is more bind than connection, let the silence untether you. I know friendships go both ways, but do I dare disturb your peace? Your privacy? I interpret your unanswered texts as stop signs. I cannot chase your absence without betraying myself. Life itself is an interruption. People create the time for things they value amidst the chaos. I’ve reminded you how my time is available for you, my calendar is an open book for you. But even open books close, collect dust, flip through months of marked engagements.
I hear your name in cities neither one of us sleeps in. I miss you. Without wish or agenda, I treasure your existence. I hope life is gentle with you on the days I don’t hear about. I hope the sun still lights gold halos around your pupils and you’re laughing loud these days. I hope life conspires to reunite us, but if she doesn’t, if this friendship was meant to be momentary, I’m glad I met you. When the concrete chants your name or I see your favorite movie, only joy arises. We lost touch but are always linked.
Have you ever seen the movie Moonlight? Do you remember the final scene? A Miami apartment living room after dark, the muted colors of the furniture reflect the hour. Chiron, … Continue reading Radical Platonic Love
This is not a love story. Well… it is, just not in the way you think or I thought in 2014.
I don’t have fingers and toes enough to count people who know me as an idea–
Fashion me in fiction
because reality is a heavier matter.
To them, I am a caricature.
I met you and the alphabet has been backwards ever since.
You get me.
I met you and before the outrage and opulence,
You understood the color of my soul.
There is a subtle addiction to those who recognize our spirits,
Even when I worry it’s run away from me.
You catch it.
Your sound is unencumbered violins,
Hurried melody, harmony, velvet smooth.
Your smell is something sweet from the kitchen as I sit in the living room–
tantalized even from afar.
Your heart proceeds everything else about you,
magnanimous enough that it makes me softer.
I know what it’s like to be regarded as a work of fiction–
To hear yourself as an idea rather than a person.
You understood me.
Thank you for being my friend and loving me as I am.
Like a lighthouse,
drew me to you.
I am, all too often,
adrift in self love as substitute.
I have sunken myself in pride before.
Your lantern eyes compelled me to shores I dared not touch.
A sailor expects paradise after a grueling journey.
I, a lover.
But ours is not a love with lips and hands and passion.
I resented the fire you shared with everyone but me,
Miserly with your affection,
Chills for all the things you said but never did.
So I left your coastline,
more willing to drown myself that call your name lifesaver.
I learned to swim,
let the water hug my body in all the ways you wouldn’t.
You are not paradise,
Nor the denouement of my hopes.
A lighthouse is not home.
And you aren’t the lover I once wanted you to be,
Rather, refuge, guidance, safety.
I see you
With profound love and gratitude,