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| i sat on the fireplace, with no flames behind me. it was a summer night, and there was no need for a fire in the fireplace. the bricks laid cool beneath me, and i watched her form words with her passionate lips. words that caught my interest. well, not exactly. i tried to listen, and i found myself in her eyes. only her eyes drew me in, until i wasn't in her eyes. now, i was simply in her presence. because as delightful as her eyes are, she is warm. her face is warm. her presence is warm. and it was as if in the moment where i had before been lost in the eyes of another, i found her eyes to simply be overwhelmed by her warmth. and those words, oh those words i had to pay close attention to.
there might as well have been a fire, because my heart was caught in heat. and i was surprised that so quickly, i came to think her lovely. and to think her lovely meant to consider adjectives that can't describe her, but attempt to in the moment. yes, she sat there in her chair that was too large for her to not be overwhelmed by comfort, but she sat on the arm next to me. playful words that i tried to listen to because i wanted to be able to interact with her, but i couldn't help but continue to think that she was warm. and i knew i wouldn't have words for her on this night. words that might intrigue her. i could only air questions in her direction on the matter of things she had just said. her brown hair, it looked soft and gentle, as if the right breeze should brush it. and if i could touch her hair, the warm girl's hair, i might melt more than a fire could ever make me.
especially on such a summer night. and then her sister asked, "what is the common thing between my siblings and i?" i looked to my left, then to their younger brother, then to the sister who had spoken. it was their eyes, although the warm girl's eyes were slightly different. her sister's are brown, and her brother's are hazel. she spoke though of her eyes. "my eyes have rings."
i stood in the light and watched it play off the rings she spoke of. and there were rings. from the outside in, or the inside out, there were rings of color. her eyes were not hazel. were not brown, green, blue, or any other color. they were rings of different color. and the rings slipped over my heart and tightened. i wondered if i should breathe again. i wondered if she knew her rings had fallen from my eyes to my heart, and now bid me to listen to her. to wait until the sunrise with her. to dream of when her rings would draw my lips to hers. to watch the sun fall beneath the sky, and watch rings surround the world, as her rings surrounded my world.
so i sat there on the fireplace, and i listened to her talk. she was warm. the way her passionate lips formed words. her presence was warm. her face was warm. but as delightful as her presence and face are, i was drawn into her eyes, and she held me there until she walked out the door.
her eyes have rings. | | |
| i sat on the fireplace, with no flames behind me. it was a summer night, and there was no need for a fire in the fireplace. the bricks laid cool beneath me, and i watched her form words with her passionate lips. words that caught my interest. well, not exactly. i tried to listen, and i found myself in her eyes. only her eyes drew me in, until i wasn't in her eyes. now, i was simply in her presence. because as delightful as her eyes are, she is warm. her face is warm. her presence is warm. and it was as if in the moment where i had before been lost in the eyes of another, i found her eyes to simply be overwhelmed by her warmth. and those words, oh those words i had to pay close attention to.
there might as well have been a fire, because my heart was caught in heat. and i was surprised that so quickly, i came to think her lovely. and to think her lovely meant to consider adjectives that can't describe her, but attempt to in the moment. yes, she sat there in her chair that was too large for her to not be overwhelmed by comfort, but she sat on the arm next to me. playful words that i tried to listen to because i wanted to be able to interact with her, but i couldn't help but continue to think that she was warm. and i knew i wouldn't have words for her on this night. words that might intrigue her. i could only air questions in her direction on the matter of things she had just said. her brown hair, it looked soft and gentle, as if the right breeze should brush it. and if i could touch her hair, the warm girl's hair, i might melt more than a fire could ever make me.
especially on such a summer night. and then her sister asked, "what is the common thing between my siblings and i?" i looked to my left, then to their younger brother, then to the sister who had spoken. it was their eyes, although the warm girl's eyes were slightly different. her sister's are brown, and her brother's are hazel. she spoke though of her eyes. "my eyes have rings."
i stood in the light and watched it play off the rings she spoke of. and there were rings. from the outside in, or the inside out, there were rings of color. her eyes were not hazel. were not brown, green, blue, or any other color. they were rings of different color. and the rings slipped over my heart and tightened. i wondered if i should breathe again. i wondered if she knew her rings had fallen from my eyes to my heart, and now bid me to listen to her. to wait until the sunrise with her. to dream of when her rings would draw my lips to hers. to watch the sun fall beneath the sky, and watch rings surround the world, as her rings surrounded my world.
so i sat there on the fireplace, and i listened to her talk. she was warm. the way her passionate lips formed words. her presence was warm. her face was warm. but as delightful as her presence and face are, i was drawn into her eyes, and she held me there until she walked out the door.
her eyes have rings. | | |
| so it's one of those days when you're wondering how you got here. this town. this job. this office. this desk. this macbook. this facebook. those wall posts and pictures.
and then you start wondering how you got there. those restaurants. those coffeeshops. those walks. those conversations.
which leads you into more thoughts like, "why aren't you upset?" "why aren't you bummed out?" "why do you just kind of feel slightly miffed?"
it's probably because she was never really here.
there was that other girl. the one you never really got past, and the way she wore that hoodie, and the way she smiled and let her feet dance on your dash as she sang and then laughed.
she was always there when she was there.
but this girl never seemed to be able to let herself go. like she was waiting for something. and that something was what you inwardly refused to give.
so this new girl was here but she was never really there.
which makes it all too quickly a forgettable experience which is completely regrettable.
forgettable experience: i can't tell you. i've already forgotten it.
unforgettable experience: that one time i was at barnes and noble and ordered a raspberry mocha from the starbucks inside and the guy turned out to be an infelicitous wretch and pumped way too much raspberry into the mocha so that i had to throw it away, and i would have had him make me a new one but i didn't even want to talk to him. that's unforgettable.
and so are conversations that happen around sweet tea and sandwiches that try to make their way out of the maze of your mind, but they can't find the way out, so you keep on thinking about the unforgettable wishing it was a bit more forgettable while wondering
why the forgettable has to be completely unforgettable.
surmising isn't surprising when it comes to questions of compromising and realizing
but really you're just wondering where is the icing on the cake. whew! that doesn't make sense to anyone but you at the moment. isn't that nice about writing? people may be reading this and reading themselves into this but really this is just about a moment when you're psyche thundered and poured a little rain. nope, that's not code for "i cried."
this is just an amused look that may leave some bemused and others not so much. | | |
| maybe it was the way her lips formed words. or the way her lips framed my world, creating rivers of peace, sunrises and sunsets, even oxygen itself in that smile framed by her lips. and the way her hair fell straight down except when it was weaved in waves which it sometimes was weaved in, oh her hair was dangerous to me, because i could sit and think about how each hair was just where it should be as she twirled it absentmindedly.
when i was on a bus in Beijing, to see the Chinese Acrobats turn Chinese flips with their permanent while performing Chinese smiles, she slipped into the vapor of culture-shock subconscious. and she slipped in effortlessly, almost as if it was her place to be there. her features danced from afar as my pen glazed the page with thoughts of what it would be like to hear her sweet, small voice and the way her lips formed those three words, the her lips framed my world with those words and i couldn't wait to hear her voice.
and yes, autumn would have been so nice together. and summer might have as well. i can't speak for spring or winter, but i'm sure autumn would have been the season to love each other like oxygen itself.
tonight though, when it comes to her, i am no longer crazy. maybe because the girl i dreamed of was never truly her. | | |
| the way she smiled was like fresh air. you must have not breathed for months. so you inhaled slowly and fell into a trance.
hand in hand
whispering jokes only
she will understand
because you have your own laughs
your own style your own way
and the pulse of her heart
makes you want to play
in the ocean
on the waves that crash
and you're getting tossed BACK AND FORTH
BAck and forTH
back and forth
in the ocean
until you struggle for the surface
as your lungs may explode
and you search the sandy shores
for the breeze flowing through her hair
and you run to the shore
you run to the shore
gasping, gulping and wheezing
thinking your lungs may explode
until she smiled. and you gulped the oxygen. because
even in the ocean, you didn't know satisfication
even in the ocean, you didn't know joy
for without the inhale and exhale of your soul
hope is stifled, health is smothered, and life seems to fade.
so you ran
through the waves
through the salt
and on the sand
because, the only thing you want is to breathe. | | |
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