lemonade letters

pillar of salt.

when they talk about your back against the wall this feeling is exactly what they meant.  this one right here in the bottom of your stomach where it flutters for awhile and then turns sour.  bubbling into discomfort and worming it’s way around your gut.  

remember what you said that one night about how lucky we are to be here in this moment away from everything else in the world that might turn our thoughts to the shadows they left in the corners?  

i walked away then after this sedentary lifestyle had taken it’s toll.  i hobbled more-like.  and all due to the glue at my sacrum that only stuck to plaster.  ahhhhhhhh i get the term wallflower as i grow my limbs and slowly peel my hips away.  paint there outlining the bones in my body.  i smiled when i learned that rhythm was always with me with or without my mind.  i started to groove and shimmy.  jive and shake.  walls and flowers belong on a dance floor more often than one would think.  

i met him in a place.  like any other.  and although i treasured every moment in said place, it never meant a damn thing until i met him in it.  when he was there it wasn’t just a place.  it was where he was.  
we didn’t meet in a way fit for a tale.  or even a passing story really.  we met because i’d had one too many and liquid courage racing through my tongue and fingertips i announced to him over a patio table that i was tired of staring at him if he couldn’t be useful and could he please give me a light?  
none of it made an ounce of impact on the stories they tell about true love.  mostly probably because it wasn’t.  i’ll let you decide which.  
truth is, he was about as god damn beautiful to a girl with my tastes as a man could ever get.  he was surrounded by deep calm and a strange heat.  i could almost see life force pouring from his pores.  with dark eyes and a darker voice he asked for my name and it was over for me. 

now he lives somewhere i’m not.  seemingly endless miles away in a town southwest of here called Quakeandfury.   If i close my eyes and travel there, i can sometimes feel a hot breeze and taste juniper and dust on my tongue.  an undeniable force is still there  almost percievable to the human mind.  a think stream of light and wanting and a connection that we try not to tear at every moment of every day.  we’ve repaired it a few times and they say it’s made us stronger, but i might still be waiting for the evidence for that.  

when they meet again it’s as if in a dream.  
i won’t tell you what happens.   

i’m starting to gain curiosity.  was i lost to this life for a lot longer than i even thought? as i wake up again, shaking the water from my fur, i am wonder and wanderlust.  every day is both terrifying and moldable.  i’m created and astounded and dumbfounded and all these little moments are just so much prettier than the big picture.