To Run to the Edge of the Abyss and Jump.

A —

Daylight is short this time of year. I find myself yawning into the early evening, my eyes believing it night. In the dark it can be hard to be still. The night roads call to me; begging me to break free. I am tired of the yawning and the fits of stagnation. I want to live my life in upper case letters. I want to run to the edge of the abyss and jump. I do not want to fear the unknown.

I have so much fear.

I fear that people will forget me. That they will stop loving me. I can’t tell you why. My parents showered me with love. I never had trouble making friends. I have had a good life. Still, the fear is there. It slinks in on soft feet, watching from just beyond the shadows. It observes me — waiting for me to let my guard down so it can enact maximum damage.

And what’s worst is I am the fear.

I am the one who allows it all to happen. I am the one who creates the thoughts that trigger the worry; the darkness. I lost one to the shadows today. He was there at the edge. I tried to coax him in, but my light was too bright. Its okay though, some things are better left behind.

So let us raise a toast to the ones we left behind. We are better for it.

Until next time,

M.

And we are It

M.

Do you remember when it didn’t need a house? When we WERE the house. Our big fat eyes just threw everything we had out onto a porch or a bar or a sidewalk.

Love was safe inside of us, because we were the bricks. And we didn’t know to have windows or doors, but we did. Every day was 73 with a breeze.

Do you remember the lightness? You were my back-pack, sometimes, and you were my lawn chair too. I never had to think you were there, or conjure you up. We lived in unison because of no fucking reason at all.

Thank you for your dear heart, and your wild soul. Thank you for being me, and letting me be you.

A.

Our Love is an Old House

A —

Ten years ago we wouldn’t have needed this. Ten years ago I would have been sitting next to you on a tattered couch. We would not need to scream across the void to have our hearts heard. We would be together, the way we are meant to be. Instead I am sitting on a new couch — ridged and unwelcoming. The room is dark, save for candle light. The music is old. I am old.

I find peace in these moments. I am building a house of them. I am building a house that reminds me of the person I used to be. The person I still am but so often forget to love. I am building a house of our love. Our love is an old house. Our love is a place of comfort. I want so badly to go back to a place of comfort. I have spent years floating and I am seeking solid ground. I have roots to set. I want to grow. Tell me, how am I supposed to do that without anything to sink into?

It is winter now. Nothing grows. We are frozen. Waiting.

I suppose I am out of words now, but I will never be out of love for you,

M.