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| Words are notes I write myself, to my deepest self as I fight to articulate the splendour and magic I feel.... I started to open myself completely, and so I tell you everything... I need you as my deepest closest friend, even my deep dark things...... and I hold my breath waiting for you to turn and cringe as I cringe myself. Only at myself. ...together time, out time,warming ourselves around the flame as it grows. The sound of your voice...finding myself aching and wanting to just wrap myself around you.... knowing what that means.... missing touch, the presence.... I look around here, at the walls that enclose me and right now I miss you. Disquiet. Alone. You there. Me here. I share my news, watch it, feel it swallowed into your well of dark quietude..moments of thought...questioning, tiredness... So my heart stretches out aware of you. letting you be. remembering to breath. Startled by the sound of my own voice, lost forever lost int he sound of your which I hear even when I do not hear... you. The day stretches ahead of me laced and framed through and about with rain; gray curtaining - and in the silence I fling myself into it now, here.. Just know I love and miss you. What I am living within now waiting leaves me scoured out and limp and nervous. Soemtimes I am just so tired, it is easier to give into the waves of tiredness than face what is causing it. Lying down full length on the thin mattress of my bed, sleep reaches up and immediately hauls me under and the day proceeds without me.... I wake disoriented in the quiet sidelong falling light of evening to the soft songs of birds finishing their daily business. I lie very still, heart thudding; as the terror of my dream crawls back to the fringes of their hiding place in my mind and soul. I am awake. I lie on my bed. I am okay. I stay absolutely still, feeling any movement at all will commit me to some course of action, some relationship with my environment which may not be wise. The speed of mmy pulse and the hollow tension in my stomach proves fear still walks with me here;.....and there is a swollen ache behind my eyes where the days experiences have kicked bruises in my soul and mind. By slow stages I gain control of my racing blood, ...reminding myself to breathe, mastering my fear. It is not fear of myself or fear of the unknown, rather a fear of the immesnity of the consequences of pushing open a closed door. There might be beasts lying in wait for me there, but I know there is love. It is the love that frightens me the most. i rub my hands over my face to squeeze out these irritating fancies...the fancies flee, leaving me embarrassed and more than a little amused at myself. |
| tracking and defining ME |
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