June 6, 2012

• Though you've never asked, I answer.
  Because you inspire me as a living, touchable, conversable person. You've shown me how you've lived on your own terms for your own contentment. You've given me confidence and a new kind of resilience. You're the biggest contributor on my life philosophy after my parents. You've demonstrated tremendous courage, initiative, and determination; I feel like I should be able to do anything as long as I want to. You've inspired a different kind of desire in me as well. Before, my desire blossomed in my fantasies with misty hues of indescribable passion. Now, they're rooted in memories of you, still passionate but now describable.

  Lastly, I love you because you are my perfect tragedy. You are the love story I weep for with all my hearts. You are the love story for which they break and glisten in splendor as shards.

   

  When I hear the sound of rain, my soul chills with a yearning to touch the dewy drops on his brow and to drink the rain from his lashes.

  When I escape the layers upon layers of ceilings and the walls give away to windows, I might catch the blue left after the sky has cleansed. And I'll think of you, because no one else has loved that blue as you have.

  When their gazes search me, implore me, your invisible arm reaches over my shoulder and speaks simply, truthfully that I belong to you.

  And when I run, fighting for strength with weakness, chasing vindication, aching with millions of cells respiring at capacity and reporting their pain to their guardian nerves, when I do, I run towards you, because you can drive me to desperation.

   

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  those with their high concepts will fall to delusion, because the higher you go, the thinner the air gets

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  I've never seen so many different types of clouds in the sky at once. There are the tiny puffs of cotton candy hanging so low that they pass by faster than the nearby trees. There are the large paste-like clouds hanging where they normally hang--that spot where kindergardeners draw their shapely bouncing arches. There are the high and thinly smattered clouds like cotton stuffing stretched just beyond the capacity to cover the exposed sky. And finally, there are the thick cumulus in the distance, puffed with volume.

  We drove in and out of a rainstorm. Like a nightmare, it swelled and faded, leaving only streaks of tears on the windows as evidence when you wake again beneath the blue.

  • 8:59 pm
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