When I realize the extent I let you touch my heart, it makes me cry.
It was that deep, levels of emotions dipping into mariana trenches of soul ties that…
I need to call my pastor.
I do not want a permanence but a taste that may erase the trace of you.
But seedlings of doubt urge me against sampling thine fruits thinking of a future date that will never be.
Yet it does not stop the twirling of butterflies that reach to the eyes like the effect of pollen to a spring allergic.
I miss the way we discussed and not argued.
The way we talked for hours and hours and never lacked for those words to say.
The way time stood still when your questions put me on the spot
but race ahead at full speed when my heart sung to the beat of your 20 drums.
Ah, the way my cheeks flushed in a nature blush when the promise of a few chosen words evoked the most puzzling reaction.
Crimsoned and drained on top yet hot and bothered below.
It was that season when words spoke louder than actions.
When the art of a lover’s deliverer was just as important as the outfit for that date.
I wonder if you ever practised the lines that you feed me
and oh boy did you feed me, I got them smooth and polished.
I miss you, no, not you but you.
You who defied all odds.
You who I thought stole my heart
But you did not,
I gave it to you, at a time of insane vulnerability.
Maybe an act of stupidity.?
Universe tell me I beseech,
but oh no, the universe does not sympathize.
But guess what, I miss you.
Plain and simple,
No more excuses, not more analysis.
It is time to come to terms with the reality that,
I Miss You but I cannot tell you.
I stay under the covers a little extra while my mind roams,
I am smiling whilst I am thinking about you.
I miss you, I miss talking to you both online and in person.
I never said it to you but the way you smile is magnificent and you have an absolutely cute nose.
The image of your smile creates warmth saturated with chills that freaks the hell out of me.
I miss your persistency, the thrill of being questioned and dodging it.
I absolutely miss being called MJ.
Time ticks away on the hand of the clock, ticking closer to the time when I will see again.
Ticking, ticking, tick-ing, time and place define everything, time when I change to somebody else when I am around you.
Is it you who facilitated that transformation or is it time and you being captured in the revolving time change?
The real person that I am is suffocating beneath years of burdensome decay and this butterfly does not like the caterpillar life any more.
Gosh! I love watching you smile( I need to say it again), it is like watching a flower opening, simply breathtaking.
An attachment is growing, I was terribly scared and mad about it before but now I am less scared.
Constantly I ask myself, “Are you crazy!”
But it happened, can’t turn back the hands of the clock and even if I could, I doubt the circumstances would have been any different.