Pealing laughter,
Colour coming back into the world,
Plans for the future,
Late nights,
Early mornings,
Compliments,
Stolen moments,
Wishing,
Hoping,
Breathing,
Living;
Love.
.
.
.
-L
sight_unseen
What would it be to live without you?
At this point I don’t want to know.
My life was dark before I met you
And you were the brilliant sun.
Why would I even want to consider going without those sunny days,
though now they are few and far between.
Infusing me with warmth still to this day,
I live for those sunny days.
Dreadful though the following cloudy days may seem,
the momentary gleam is worth any darkness.
One day, perhaps the darkness won’t be so suffocating;
perhaps you won’t be the only ever-present sun.
Until then,
I don’t want to know.
.
.
.
Hope this finds you well,
-L.
I can’t wait for you anymore.
Not in dreams,
In sleeping,
Not at midnight.
Yet still, I will.
For you, I’d wait an eternity,
For our inevitability- forever.
You’re that missing piece of my soul so how could any wait be too long?
How could I not wait when you keep coming back to me?
I’ll be there.
I’ll meet you at midnight.
I’ll keep waiting.
.
.
.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
Here you are again,
Meeting me in dreams.
Dreams that try to blur reality
But the harshness of daylight takes no prisoners.
Meeting you in dreams,
Again,
Feels like finally being able to breathe;
Feels like the missing piece of my soul has clicked back into place.
It’s better than any high a drug could offer me.
It’s because I’ve never loved anyone as much as I loved that boy, that you, that us.
Love that strong lingers and now spans decades.
Hopefully it reaches across dimensions and lifetimes to others where we stay together and the fates are kinder to us.
Dreaming you,
Again,
Is a sweet torture unlike any other.
Midnight texts from you feel similar.
Wishing, always wishing, that goodbye could have meant forever and that we wouldn’t have entered this limbo.
Wishing that reality wasn’t so harsh that my subconscious pulls you to me to soothe my ragged edges and give me comfort I find only in dreaming of you,
Again.
.
.
.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
Every September, here you come again.
Here to drag my heart around:
Down the roads we used to drive,
Through the fields we used to farm,
Over the couches we used to kiss on,
Around the sunlit days we used to fall in love.
Dragging.
Bruised and sore, but willing nonetheless.
Is it really dragging or
Perhaps pulling;
Carrying.
I’d follow you and memory lane anywhere.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
The waves of missing you come steadily as ocean waves against the shore, every few heartbeats one belongs to you.
4,000 kilometres away and I still feel it.
“Happy birthday…”
And my heart bleeds again, always for you.
Crying between palm trees, turning thirty.
A decade apart and still we repeat the saga and maintain the tether.
Some part of us needs these waves.
I wish the ocean would keep its own salt water; it can take it off my face,
And that waves were only for water.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
I’d cut September out of the year like I’d cut this heart out of my chest and give it back to you.
I’m tired of aching.
Even one month is too long.
This missing and longing is nine years too late.
Waking,
Sleeping,
Dreaming,
Missing.
Take it away.
Take September, you can have it.
I’ve had plenty without you now but still my heart forgets this fact.
Let me have my heart back- it beats in your chest as this one does for you.
Let’s exchange hearts and you keep September.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
I can’t control dreams,
But if I could,
I would steer them away from you.
I have no desire to dream of utopia but wake and live in reality.
Dreams bring me to you, to us; to our other dimension, as we used to say.
The dreams aren’t real but the feelings I awake with sure are.
If I can only have moments of you in dreams, perhaps I should stay asleep so I can keep dreaming.
Alas, I cannot control dreams.
.
.
.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
I’ve been trying to write about myself but all that comes easily to paper is you.
That’s all I have left.
Maybe if I write enough, I can let go.
With each swoop and loop, may the ink take away the knowing and the missing, the feeling and the lingering.
Take the vividness and the longing.
May all the memories be the ink that comes to dry across pages instead of tears that streak across my cheeks.
I don’t really want to forget.
I can never really forget.
I’m certain that eventually all pens run out of ink.
Here’s to writing and to hoping.
.
.
.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
It doesn’t matter.
I’d do anything for you.
These lines we’ve crossed,
The lines we will cross.
They do matter.
We put ourselves here.
And yet,
They don’t matter.
We wish we could believe ourselves
And our lies.
I’d cross an ocean for you
And every line we could dream of.
That’s what love is.
It follows us still.
Love has drawn the lines,
And love crosses them.
.
.
.
Hope this finds you well,
-L