Pieces..

"Does it just come to you"?
"In pieces, yes".
It's like running, how it makes me feel so free. The pages are my friends, the finished book a perfect lover. I don't sleep much. My mind, it's another person who works on a different time line. He lays next to me, pen in hand, then shakes me awake and hands me the paper. In the morning I read what came to me in sleep. I flick through the pages, like I'm walking through a dream, but it's more a part of me than what I see in the mirror. My soul in a visual form, the words like a child. I love each one the same, even those who are stained with tears.
Today we can't go out to play.

Tell Me a Story with a Different Ending..

It was effortless, a deep breath in winter that you could feel in your chest as a moment ended and a new one began. I stepped across, seeing the details in everything.

A single raindrop crawled to the end of your nose and jumped to the ground below, it joined the puddles around your feet, waiting for the game. I stepped close dropping my hand near to yours, just in-case you wanted to hold it. Her face was pale, but from a distance the blood on her cheeks made them look rosy, but only from a distance. Leaves brushed along the ground, watering the grass with the rain they had carried. Some blew across the field and stopped as they hit her body, accumulating next to her like a blanket that had fallen to her side during the night. The trees whispered, telling me you didn't want me to speak, not yet. I waited.

I wasn't actually there, my baby was at home tucked under her covers, safe. I walked to the edge, the tip of my shoes touching the grass that met the side of the path. Someone's hand was on my back, I didn't notice whose, maybe it was God. The night calmed me, the day was almost over, everything will be sorted out tomorrow. Nothing was real, this didn't even look like my town. My heart beat slowly as if I was ready to die. The clouds rolled in over the hill. Shadows came to take me away.

I saw my mum in the field. I wondered why she was out so late. I wasn't in my pajamas anymore. Someone was holding my hand. Everything was warm, even though I could see their breath. I was laid down in the wet grass, but now I was dry. I can remember my eyes closing, someone wrapped me in a blanket, I didn't notice who, maybe it was God. I could taste a sweetness at the back of my throat, like when you're drifting off to sleep. Someone tell me a story with a different ending.

My Boyfriends Name is Joe..

I never left you, we were always just a moment away.

All the emotions of life live here, they play out in every second. You can see it, standing on the corner of a strangers world, asking someone to take your picture. She's my best friend.

I fell into you at an airport and I haven't stopped falling since.

"Pardon Madame"

"Il est bien"

You caught my hand as I knelt down to pick up my purse. We looked at each other. We sat close together in the same terminal, waiting for the same plane. You asked me to take your picture and we never left each others side. It was like a dream but the colours were brighter.

It was a minute-by-minute thing between you and I, all the excitement of the world wrapped up in a conversation. I was a writer, you were a photographer, we didn't know each others name.

Sometimes when my heart is on the edge of a feeling and I don't quite know how to write it I'll close my eyes and put my hands on the pages. When I first told you that, you closed your eyes and put your hands on me. I was quiet. You said you knew exactly what you were feeling but didn't know how to tell me. We were young but we knew that we loved each other.

You tasted like a cigarette with the end dipped in chocolate. I didn't just want the memories, I wanted all of you forever.

She was a bird on the edge of a cliff that I fell in love with just before she flew away. I didn't want to put her in a cage, I just wanted to hold her for the rest of my life.

You once told me, if you can't see in the dark, close your eyes for a few moments, then open them and everything will seem brighter. All of my days were spent walking around with my eyes closed and the world was never brighter when I awoke, until that day.

In between, my time was spent hoping you would keep showing up. We both had our own lives but each year in October we would meet by the same fountain on the Shanzelize and spend two weeks expressing the love we felt for each other every day of the year.
We were perfect together in an imperfect world that had no space for us.

I knew you from another life where we spent all our time together. When that life was over the God's never imagined we loved enough to find each other in the next world.
You looked different but you smelt the same, like cigars and espresso. We must have passed each other by a thousand times before we tripped in the same place. 

Every time we parted, it was like an airport goodbye and when I saw you again amongst the faces in the crowd my heart still skipped. Each year you looked a little older, young with lines of age, aged with mannerisms of the young.
We always fell right back into step with one another. You would touch the back of my arm, as I turned to face you I always paused, content in the knowledge that you were right behind me. You walked in step with me effortlessly and I didn't even have to pause.
I never thought of the time we had left until our last few hours together. I never wanted to sleep. We stumbled through our dreams, real life never intervened and time was endless.

The sun would break into our lovers lair every morning just to take our picture. I would shy away from the flash, burying my face into your chest.
We woke late cuddling, then made coffee in our underwear. We walked through the streets hand in hand and danced in the lane ways. After a late lunch and an afternoon pastry we would race back to our apartment for some delightful love making and sleep away the rest of the day. I never imagined I could be so happy.

(More to come ^.^)  

When we're done..

Time isn't my friend. It's a shadow that never wants to get a drink but follows me around always expecting an invitation. Always on my mind, it's a weight I was born with and have to carry step by step until I reach the end of the Earth.

Time is the worst thing humans ever created, to measure a day, a week, a year and fasten it to the belt of life, with no room for the moments that fall in-between. A measure of success, a measure of wisdom, a measure of age, but we all use a different metric. 

A measure of love?

I loved you in a moment, we were married with a kiss and died holding hands.

                                                                                                  Dali (of course)