turbulence

this week i empty and turbulent and small.

my heart aches for the mess that she's made. i want to feel the edges of things and today, i do. sharp and cold and skeptical. the butterflies have left for greener girls.

would you mind if i rest with you awhile? nuzzle my head into your chest. feel your fingers tangled up in my hair. until, finally, i can fall asleep and this ache in my jaw and fog in my head falls away for a moment of clean breathing and peaceful dreams.

my schedule is upside down this week. days off in odd places, early mornings at the store ... making it hard to find time and space in which to think and feel my way through my melancholy. so, as i leave for work, i'll keep my hands in my pockets, hide my heart in a bag and wait for the turbulence to dwindle down.

and somewhere in the middle of this week, my happiness will start slowly creeping back. that much i know. (will it ever start sinking in?)

i hope this first monday after the holiday finds you on your way towards 'rested' and happy. don't rush too much. ease into your stream as best you can ... the water is bound to be cold. and if you can, take care of me a little.

en route

tonight, i am like a child awaiting the arrival of santa claus, and awake much later than i ought to be. and so i've logged on in the dark to see if you're here somewhere, too; hoping there's a message from you and knowing there won't be. you aren't the boy who leaves messages.

still, i'm sentimental this evening and not the least bit sorry about it. maybe it's the holidays.

or maybe it's that driving home tonight, the sky a smoky veil and a moon in the shape of a smile, a christmas song i've heard ten thousand times before intersected with the chill in the air and suddenly, there was a smile and a flush and there you were.

it doesn't matter, now, what the memory was, or if it was even a memory at all - when it comes to thoughts of you, there's a certain joy imprinted there. indelible, you. on that same drive home, it should be noted, the sun took an unusually long time to leave the party (flirting with the moon again, i guess - she was all aglow.). and, seeing as he was en route to your half of the globe, i called in a favor ... so, this christmas, as you roll over in bed and wake to the new day and when you step outside and first feel the sun on your skin - consider yourself kissed. and think of me.

happy christmas.