I need photos, our smiling faces, almost conjoined, moments held suspended.
And envelope glue stuck to the top of my tongue, after putting my heart in ruled lines.
An ink stained paged flowing out of the pen bound to your soul.
Candles and moonlight walks!
I need the chase, traditioned by our grandparents, now thrown aside.
A bouquet accompanying an iambic pentameter, labored over.
Your kiss upon shoulder, upon head, upon lips.
Slowly working your way to my heart.
I am more than what your eyes can take in.
I am worth the pursuit.
8am, a mug, a bagel and a table.
Up and to the left from my steaming coffee, there it was.
Unsymmetrically folded, shoved between two bricks.
I couldn’t reach it with my fingers, so I took my keys and prodded it to the surface.
There on its face was scribbled:
Thumping in my chest began.
“I have seen you here, every morning.”
“I have watched you writing in your journal, the passion behind your eyes. I see your joy, in the written word.”
Hmmm . . .
“Oh and your beauty, and by beauty I do not mean just an outward appearance but your whole being, spirit, the way you walk, talk, how you seize each moment and give it back with arms open.”
“I am falling in love with you more each day.”
I looked around.
“You are my bright star, and my happy ending”
I sense a person behind me.
I spin around.
“Hey! I’ve missed you.”
And I attempt to melt into him.
How did we meet?
My heart stood still at sight of you in The Coffee and Bar.
You searched for a familiar face.
So I stuck my hand against yours saying, “hello”
You stood over me.
Your voice low, I had to lean in to hear.
We laughed at the prospect of being good friends.
You shared from the depths of your heart with no shame.
And I stood awed by God’s masterpiece.
We are in an awkward reconnecting scene straight out of Jane Austen.
We drifted remember, no hard feelings
Of course I still like you
No not the kind of like where I want to sleep with you and become the mother of your children
it never was
No it’s not because of who you are today
its a backwards look
It’s the way you used to make us laugh
When college hadn’t aged us yet
Hands in hands wishing us to be everlasting
Us and the top of the world the night before childhood ended
Stars streaming down to collide with earth as we sat in your parents truck bed
There is romance in a record store
Its the dusty smell and yellow faded covers, how you flip threw them causally, as a breeze in the afternoon on a hot Sunday.
We know we would never hang them up on the wall.
Hiding our secrets in book shelves behind psychedelic envelopes.
It’s not the way I gaze across the room, no it’s not the instant connection, or absently touching finger tips.
It’s underneath the vinyl, between grooves, read only by a stylus falling up and down across the frozen waves.
A stamp made in history by Edison, it’s stood, not of convenience or simplicity.
No this is where time and effort come in, for love doesn’t coast by, it’s whether your record will be placed upon my revolving platter, sending its vibrations down the path of metal wires to tone arm, and cartridge.
Will it form an electrical current creating that nostalgic scratchy sound bound to my heart?
Will it sing between our empty spaces filling up our silences?
A tale of souls wound together amongst vinyl.
I’ve been staring into the depth of your eyes for 5 minutes.
I am sure you haven’t noticed, you continue your story about last weekend.
I am hanging onto the little things,
the smile when you see me across the room,
how you greet me and send me off with a hug.
Such sweet compliments mingling with my thoughts.
I am stuck between my feelings and your friendship.
How was I to know it would get so hard to carry a love unreturned.
I tug along this weight, watching a breeze slightly ruffle your hair and shirt.
I hold the ache and wish for your hand in mine.
You tell me how hard it is to be alone, how hard it is to wish for someone and not have it.
You said we couldn’t!
you said we shouldn’t!
You said it was not the right timing.
And I have stayed a faithful friend.
Always caring along the longing of what could have been.
Would you have been the embrace against my tears?
Would we chase God together?
Would we make each other grow?
Would our kisses be sweet like honey? Each one somehow more?
An overwhelming care, I grip this love unrequited.
When did you become so dear to me?
When did you burrow into the depths of my heart?
Why do my prayers begin and end with your name?
So you tell me of your weekend, and your plans.
And I listen, and I share.
My eyes screaming, will you ever see?
When my mind finds itself to you
At your profession, pastimes, passions, & pains.
Are you exceeding expectations and persisting when others would give up?
Did you pull out the cookbook last night and flip through the pages?
Did you watch a western or documentary off Netflix before falling asleep?
It wonders about when we finally meet.
Will you want to fill my empty spaces?
Are we going to celebrate monthly anniversary like middle schoolers?
Will you remember my favorite coffee order and bring it to me on a rough day at work?
It wonders about holidays & birthdays.
Do you have thanksgiving traditions to teach me and do you pray before the meal?
Will you kiss me under the mistletoe and chop down a Christmas tree?
Are you a fan of surprise parties and gifts wrapped up with a bow?
It wonders at your faith and leadership
Do you read the Word and share your thoughts with me?
Will you sing His praises at the top of your lungs in the forest by the stream?
Are we going to commit to community week after week after week?
Then my mind finds itself back to reality.