What you don’t say becomes you.
It feels like it’s vocalized in the thickness of your silence.
The universe is working overtime to correct and rectify the death of your decisions.
The less you say, the more you become a permanent fixture of your anti-self.
The baritone of your regrets are bellowing out like a speakerphone,
Drowning out what could have been great.
Change washing over us like a riptide of you and I.
You, walking miles on end unnecessarily does not become you.
It’s ironic how the more you tug on threads of cemented routines,
The more it unravels, revealing the mess you left, permeating beneath us like hot lava.
We’re slipping and sliding incessantly, wondering when the next shoe will drop.
All due to the built up tension of our kettles steam.
You used to dream about how the universe pulled your dreams together,
weaving in moments that we shared and memories that were blissful blips in your life before
Is that still true?
I do not believe in cliches, in love stories or narratives that end in happy endings- at least for us… I do not. All I know, all I know for sure is the depth of your smile and the warmth that emanates when you look at me and how I feel. But when you look at me, I think you see her. Perhaps in another life, another time, there is a happy ending after all.
Do you feel a percolation of nervousness spread across your chest-
engulf your heart and mind as you think of her?
Do you feel the need to cry when love feels like it is suffocating-
suffocating enough so that the hollows of your throat enclave
but you are still able to feel the air slowly enter in again.
Does your soul feel a familiar tug of recognition, of recreation or urgency to know me?
Do you know me?
At a crossroads in life, I seek refuge in the idea that you & I will be reborn,
reshaped and restretched into another perspective,
perhaps in another life, another bane of existence, our narrative continues.
Our eyes meet, begging to have a conversation;
The twinkle in yours draws me in closer and closer.
The intoxication I feel is better than a mediated high,
One that takes me into mindless euphoria,
One that shapes the way I feel for you.
The point of the matter is discussed through a slight touch,
Gentleness contrasted by the flickering of the room luminosities.
I feel enveloped in the cliché of cloud 9,
Words are unspoken,
As our pupils dilated in the tide of lust do the talking
The attraction seems to know no bounds,
A craving that’s filled yet unsatisfied by only touch.
A feeling as if our souls were cascading.
Through an ever-flowing stream of emotion,
dancing gently through a monstrous storm.
The sensation you leave me with has me begging for more,
An ideal I cannot consummate.
Written by: HMF & FQ