She’ll spend sleepless nights wondering how a soul with so much love inside of her has found herself so lonely.
How someone who cries tears of joy at daffodils blooming, laughs at her own mistakes, and peers into people’s energies has become so lost.
When she looks you in the eye her mind is not elsewhere, and if she smiles wistfully it’s only because she spots the same powerful green her father carried with him until the day he died - his heart open and willing until the end.
How someone who cries tears of joy at daffodils blooming, laughs at her own mistakes, and peers into people’s energies has become so lost.
When she looks you in the eye her mind is not elsewhere, and if she smiles wistfully it’s only because she spots the same powerful green her father carried with him until the day he died - his heart open and willing until the end.
She makes up love stories in her mind, the details so real you would swear they were borrowed from the novel she just hungrily tore through, but they are of her own making. The look across a crowded soirée her hypothetical soulmate casts in her direction. If you’re too slow you’ll miss it. But her head is always tuned in to his brain waves.
The electric energy that sparks each time her feet strike the city pavement reflected in the bright marquee shouting her name.
The pride that swells in her chest as the audience leaps to their feet and the glowing flame of pure, unconditional love when she sees him…whoever he is…clapping along.
There would be no need for words, because in God’s final draft of us, she believes we will not speak. Words only ever complicate things, and life could be lived as it was inside the web she travelled nightly as a child. Inside that web she never spoke.
She only felt.
She was only understood.
The electric energy that sparks each time her feet strike the city pavement reflected in the bright marquee shouting her name.
The pride that swells in her chest as the audience leaps to their feet and the glowing flame of pure, unconditional love when she sees him…whoever he is…clapping along.
There would be no need for words, because in God’s final draft of us, she believes we will not speak. Words only ever complicate things, and life could be lived as it was inside the web she travelled nightly as a child. Inside that web she never spoke.
She only felt.
She was only understood.
The feelings are so real to her. So utterly tangible and although she knows she’ll regret investing in them, at this point it’s the only way she can fall asleep anymore.
It’s the only way she can calm the thoughts of hatred that course through her body all day, and focus her mind on love.
The kind of love that needs no words.
That sings her lullabies off key and lets her ride her bike with no hands…because although it’s more dangerous, it’s the closest she’s ever been to flying.
She dreams of this soul and feels guilty when she realizes how much he is just a permutation of the man she misses every day, taken from her too soon.
She drifts off nightly, hoping she’ll be visited by her father.
But that too is dangerous.
Seeing as she’ll only be disappointed when she wakes up.
It’s the only way she can calm the thoughts of hatred that course through her body all day, and focus her mind on love.
The kind of love that needs no words.
That sings her lullabies off key and lets her ride her bike with no hands…because although it’s more dangerous, it’s the closest she’s ever been to flying.
She dreams of this soul and feels guilty when she realizes how much he is just a permutation of the man she misses every day, taken from her too soon.
She drifts off nightly, hoping she’ll be visited by her father.
But that too is dangerous.
Seeing as she’ll only be disappointed when she wakes up.
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