coldscars

the way you respond only to me in a language unknown to almost everyone else makes me forget there are people watching silently and then the moment is over until next time

holding myself back holding something in holding it together like I'm not the one who needs holding

you're in bed already but I try not to hurry the foam has ample time to caress every curve the sweet scent of raspberry holds the memory of summer on my skin, silken as I dive under blankets and you breathe me in

I brace myself for the question that never comes and find out the answer is shaped like a question what if I want your mind wandering here on my bare thighs where your hands can't be what if I want your mind wondering what the palm of your hand will f…

connecting the dots the dots connect us in more . . . .. ways than. . . .... . ... .. .one

just a little stumble not a complete fall not a reason to stop just a tiny bump on the road I'm on the road I'll stay on this time I'll stay on this road

keep those paws tight on me don't let go don't you dare I might float away

head full of words in all the languages a soup of sounds and phrases finding connections opening doors the stream flowing two ways connecting the dots

the hunger for something huge and different and hugely different bursts out in small portions start new hobbies learn new skills gather knowledge make building blocks for what's next

would we ever get out of bed if we were sleepy together in the same bed?

the version of me you see is holding back, terrified filtering words too intense to be allowed out in the world like it would change the truth swallowing questions censoring sentences while the words you are waiting for are already there

I want to hear all of them your ideas I say and mean it the good, the crazy even the silly ones you'll never know what will stick and that isn't even why but hearing them in the first place

I would take you to the spot by the lake where I used to sit smoking as a teenager hiding from the world and on the walk back to town I would show you my favourite playground in my childhood neighborhood the house I wanted to live in and the one next to it

my elephant and I are listening to the trains again wondering what stories do the travelers carry what are their reasons to sleep across the country and when will this room be empty and us two on our way to adventure

the little things that seem to carry more meaning than what has been said out loud I do notice and in my mind I reply with more warmth more joy more than I am able to say out loud for now

we joke about a notebook I supposedly keep a ledger being appended every time a fact falls in my lap and now I feel like starting one the pink one, of course only it wouldn't be cold facts but little things I've gathered that make me smile and things I do…

this I should keep to myself I think once, twice, many times the quiet hopes and ugly thoughts the rosy dreams and constant fears I keep spilling them, the secrets that scare me and you're still there, listening not scared

my hand in your hair, a gentle tug not a new thought a resurfaced one imagination running wild so many steps ahead I can't count not like I'm really trying happily distracted by that thought my hand in your hair, again

there are multiple things happening simultaneously not cause and effect, not really but intertwined, entangled woven and blurring together and whenever I pull the thread to try and gently untangle I find another knot and another endlessly

I fall asleep holding you near where my fears live hoping the distance away I wake up with you holding me