All I want, is to talk with you. talk with you before the earth tilts and reveals the lumanince of the sun. And long after the sky becomes littered with cosmic glitter.
All I want, is you to rememeber my name. the name that would so delicately roll off your lips.
All I want, is for us to talk like we use to. long letters, handwritten passion, the detailed explanation of a dreamy composition.
All I want, is to kiss your cold lips and catch the breath as it evacuates your lungs.
All I want, is to hold your hands, and pray with you. To only pray that I may have you in my life once more.
Something has consumed my mind with the thought of you. I cannot seem to cleanse any mental image without your name appearing.
I am not sure what this means. But I will continue to pray for your and your boyfriend. a prayer of peace, comfort, growth, and love.
With my sincerest thoughts I will maintain the attitude of keeping my distance and respect the reality of the “I want mentality.” For I respect relationships and do not see to destroy what is loved.
Longing for something I want. . .
Signed the Sincerest.
I am obsessed with bridges. They are so beautiful and are placed in the most desolate areas. On my Instagram I once posted a picture of a bridge captioned “Bridges are what connects man’s creation to God wonder” maybe I enjoy bridges because I know it means moving on and exploring.
Last night I tossed and turned all night. My voice is gone, my throat feels tight from this sickness that rules my body. I was coughing so much I actually lost my breath and could not breath. This happened several times. I lost all energy to move because I knew oxygen was not entering my lungs. As I laid on the floor trying to gain a breath this thought came into my head. I am in this house alone, no one is around. No one stops by to check on me, my parents text me occasionally from states away. But if I die from not being able to get oxygen in my lungs who will know. This sounds dramatic but I assure you it is true.
As the sun rose this morning, my heart grew with courage! I was able to pack your belongings into several boxes load them into my car and drop them off at your moms. As I was driving a flood of memories evicted every thought in my head on how nervous I was to do this.
I remember moving from California to Idaho, chasing you. It was a wonderful chase. The year prior to the move we flew to each other well over a dozen times each. I remember laying in tall grass next to a lake in California looking at the clouds. I remember working on skid row doing some homeless ministry, and this one day you decided to come with me in the pouring rain. Your name is Rain. I remember sitting on a bus coming back from Santa Monica going to the heart of LA Where we shared our first kiss. I remember being the cute couple in the airport as we flew to Canada. Being the sad couple in the airport knowing I wouldn’t see you for 28 days. I remember trying to drive from your mom’s to your dad’s and getting so hopelessly lost on the streets of Idaho. I looked over at you, and you were laughing because you had never seen me lost. I remember our first small apartment.
Building a entertainment center out of pallets in our small 600 sqft home. Me you and our two dogs.
I remember our journeys and travels. Getting lost in a corn mazes. Going to different coffee shops every weekend. Playing tourist in towns we knew, and getting lost in cities we didn’t.
Why am I remembering all of this right now. I am not hurting I am not sad. Instead I have the biggest cheesiest smile on my face driving to drop your stuff off. Because these memories are real… They will always last even though your face and voice may fade.
I know I’ll never hold you or see you again. I’ll never be able to spill my heart, or provide for you again. The last memory I have of you is kissing you goodbye before I left for work. You were all snuggled up in our bed. As my lips left your cheek you smiled and continued to sleep. At that moment I knew you were at peace. I had no idea this would be the last time I saw you. If I did I would have stayed home from work.
I have dropped off remnants of your life at your moms. It was so heartbreaking. But I know I’ll be okay. I do not hate you! I hate that I have to do this. But I can’t hang on when I know he hangs on to you at night. I can’t continue to pay your bills as I feel I am paying for your lifestyle with him. I am not doing this because I hate you. I am doing this because my heart is holding on by a thread. The thread it is hanging on by is the same thread that will be used to suture my mauled heart, if it breaks I may never be the same. So please understand why I am doing this, please don’t hate me for feeling imprisoned in our home. I have taken your responsibilities and pain so that you may be free.
*All images are my own*
My hands are not clean and groomed. My hands are dry, cracked, scarred, bruised, and beat. You always complimented my hands. “I love the tenderness of your hands, because it shows you work hard to provide and take pride in your work.” That’s the truth. But I am not sure if you noticed the blood that dripped from the tips each night. I am not sure if you noticed the bandages I used, so that I could do it all over again the next day for you. I remember lacing my fingers to yours. Your hands so gorgeous, soft, pure, delicate and manicured. Mine so rough like the wilderness after a wildfire… I remember waking up in the night searching for your hand. It was easily found 7 inches to the right of me. I remember being nervous at mixers and youd reach for my hand knowing i was nervous. I found comfort in your hands. Now I search… Nothing is found, I reach for comfort and my consciousness pulls my hand back into my pocket, where I fiddel with the lint gathered in the pocket seems.
Now my hands suffer working for all you took. No longer in my possession, I still work my hands to the bone. Just to provide for a life and possessions I no longer own. My house is a prison and my flatware mocks me as you run around the country leaving me to suffer.